Red Sun Rising
by Evandar
Summary: AU. Raised in the Darkest part of London, Harry Potter is a Potions Master and far from an icon for the Light. The Order can't prepare for this. HPLV SLASH - NOW DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

Warnings: Dark! Harry, Manipulative! Dumbledore, slash, character bashing, OCs and quite possibly death.

Pairings: Harry/Voldemort, Draco/Blaise, Ron/Hermione, Fred/George, Neville/Theodore

Disclaimer: I own...a mouse...actually I don't, it's just currently running wild in my living room

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Prologue

'Red sun rising,

Drown without inhaling,

Within, the dark holds hard.

Red sun rising,

Curtain falling,

Higher than hope my cure lies.' - Higher than Hope, Nightwish

Harry Potter, or Aryn Vesper as he now called himself, was no ordinary wizard by any means. He was small and slightly undernourished, like most children who've spent time on the streets are, but that didn't hide the air of effeminate beauty that surrounded him. He had long, wavy black hair that tumbled untidily to his waist and surrounded his slight frame, and he had large, emerald green eyes. Hidden behind shaggy bangs, though, was Harry's most unusual feature. It was a lightening bolt shaped scar.

This, of course, was no ordinary scar, it was a curse scar that was given to Harry by the Dark Lord Voldemort. When Harry had been just fifteen months old Voldemort had come to his house in Godric's Hollow and murdered his father, his mother, and tried to kill Harry too. But, for some reason, the curse had reflected and killed the Dark Lord instead, leaving a baby Harry alone in the ruins of his home.

Then, not three days later, Harry had been found in an alley, deep in the heart of London's slums by the man that he now regarded as his father; the vampire Jericho Vesper. Jericho had, of course, done what any decent person would have done, and took Harry in to raise as his own. He had refused to make Harry a vampire and, despite his foster father's dubious occupation and living quarters, Harry had had a pleasant and happy childhood.

On the morning of his eleventh birthday, Harry could be found behind the counter of Jericho's Potions shop, that also served as an Apothecary. It was one of the semi-respectable businesses in the area and it was situated on the corner of Gallow Lane, where it joined onto Knockturn Alley.

He was reading a copy of that morning's Daily Prophet and sipping at a mug of strong, black coffee, when the bell rang and a tall figure wearing a long, black, hooded cloack entered the shop.

Harry looked up at the man and nodded in greeting as he prepared to put on his fake Cockney accent. He didn't really have an accent, but he could imitate those of other people remarkably well.

"Mornin' Guv'nor", he called. "Wot can ah getcha?"

"I'm looking to purchase a dragon's egg", the man said in a soft, yet cultured voice. "I was told that you might have one."

Harry grinned and hopped off his stool, indicating that the customer should follow him as he stepped into the store room.

"Roight ths way, Guv'nor", he drawled. "Lookin' for a partic'lar kind, are ya?"

Half an hour later when the customer had left with a fine Norwegian Ridgeback tucked into his pocket, Harry received an owl. This was by no means an irregular occurance; he often had customers ordering ingredients and potions by owl, sometimes even paying for them by owl too. But what was unusual about this owl was the name and address that ws written in bright green ink on the front of the envelope it held.

'Mr Harry Potter,

The Counter,

JV Potions and Apothecary,

Gallow Lane,

London'

Harry froze. Nobody he knew except Jericho called him Harry, and even then it was in private. Frowning slightly, Harry opened the envelope and read the contents. As he did, his frown deepened and by the time he finished he was scowling at the parchment murderously. He flipped the letter over, grapped a quill and some ink, and he wrote on the back in his neatest handwriting a simple reply and sent it back with the owl that had delivered it.

That evening, amongst the replies that she had received, Minerva McGonagall only found one that was memorable, and therefore, worthy of notice.

There on the back of Harry Potter's Hogwarts letter was the neatly written phrase:

'I am NOT Harry Potter, so sod off.'


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to all my reviewers. 

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, a chocoholic mouse and...er...um...a match. Yeah!

Red Sun Rising

by Evandar

Chapter 1

And so it Begins

Four years later, the world Aryn Vesper lived in was a much more dangerous place. The Dark Lord Voldemort had returned and he was more powerful than ever. People rarely went out during the day, and never at night, and when they did it was always a hurried, nervous affair.

But, of course, none of this really affected Aryn. As far as he was concerned the Dark Lord was alright. Lord Voldemort and his people kept good custom at JV's and, Aryn had to admit, the man's handsome features were a real sight for sore eyes.

No, the part of Voldemort's return that bothered Aryn the most was the way that the Ministry and people like Albus Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix kept looking for him. They would come into the shop and ask either himself or Jericho if they had seen, well, him. Chucking the bastards out was getting annoying in Aryn's opinion.

But the world Aryn lived in was flipped upside down just days after his fifteenth birthday; he was arrested. He had been making a routine delivery of Wolfsbane potion to one of his regular werewolf customers when a hand closed around his upper arm and a wand was pressed into his temple.

"You are under arrest by order of the Ministry of Magic," a deep voice said in his ear. "You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be taken in evidence..."

"Oh bollocks", had been the only thing that Aryn had thought of saying at the time and he had not spoken since, despite a rigorous three hour long interrogation by a woman called Amelia Bones and an Auror called Shacklebolt. He had simply sat there in the cold metal chair they had provided and glared at them.

Now though, he was slumped against one of the walls in his cell, deep below the Ministry's main office building. He drew his knees up against his chest and rested his forehead against them as the realisation that the Ministry and the Order had finally caught up with him, sank in. He was screwed.

HPLVHPLVHPLVHPLV

Three hundred miles away, in his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore gleefully received a summons to the Ministry from Amelia Bones.

They had found him at last.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone for their reviews. I love you all.

Red Sun Rising

by Evandar

Chapter 2

First Meeting

Aryn looked up from his knees when he heard his cell door opening. There, in the doorway, was one of his interragators; Amelia Bones, and two others, both of them male.

One of them was an elderly man with long white hair and a matching beard, both of which were tucked into his belt, and he had twinkling blue eyes. He was wearing sunshine yellow robes decorated with bright pink bunnies with high heeled boots and a lime green wizards' hat.

Aryn sneered at him in disgust.

The other man was one that Aryn had seen skulking around Knockturn Alley a few times. He was tall and pale with long, greasy black hair and he was dressed modestly in plain black robes. He hung back from the others, remaining in the shadows of the room.

"This a new interr'gashhun technique or summink?" Aryn asked Amelia Bones a he indicated the old man. "Bringin' men'al old farts in from Mungo's?"

The younger, black haired man gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"I am Albus Dumbledore", the old man said.

"And?" Aryn demanded. The old man was wasting time and Aryn hated time wasters. "I already spen' enuff o' my life in this shit pit, I got a shop to 'elp run, so 'urry up will ya?"

"Harry", Dumbledore said calmly. "The wizardin world is in turmoil and only you can bring us peace once more. We need you to help us defeat Lord Voldemort."

"Tha's it?" Aryn asked in a dangerous voice. "Ya wan' me ta fight a war for ya? Sod off! I'm fifteen ya old bastard! An' stop callin' me 'Arry, my name's Aryn!"

"You are Harry Potter", Dumbledore said sternly, although his eyes kept twinkling. "And you will be coming with myself and Professor Snape to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."

"There you will be trained in defensive and offensive magic, as well as the ways that Harry Potter is expected to act by the wizarding world", Snape interjected.

"After the summer holidays are over you will attend Hogwarts under your real name, Harry Potter. And after that...well, we'll see."

"An' when do I ge' a say in this?" Aryn growled, furious with the man.

"You don't", Dumbledore informed him.

After that, Aryn knew no more as he'd been hit by a stunning spell cast by Snape. He was then taken by the two men to the nearest apparition point and on to the one place in the world that Aryn really didn't want to go; the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this Fic so far.

Red Sun Rising

Chapter 3

The Order of the Burning Birdie

As soon as they had all returned to Grimmauld Place, a stunned Harry in tow, Albus Dumbledore summoned the Order of the Phoenix to him for an emergency meeting, while Snape shut the boy in a warded room to keep him out of the kind of mischief that a stunned street rat can get into.

Dumbledore could barely contain his excitement as he watched his loyal followers filter into the living room. He hardly noticed the curious looks they were giving him as they passed the smirking man on the way to their seats. There was, after all, no reason to summon them all for an emergency meeting when Voldemort had been quiet for the past few months.

Once they were all present and sat on the various articles of shabby furniture around the room, Dumbledore started the meeting with three simple words: "We have him."

There was no mistaking who the 'him' in question was. It was the 'him' that they had all been looking for ever since Voldemort had gotten his hands on the Philosopher's Stone four years ago.

The various reactions that those small words caused would have been ludicrous if they had been refering to anyone other than the Boy-Who-Lived. Sirius Black went rigid in his chair, his pale blue eyes fixed on Dumbledore, while at his side Remus Lupin began to fidget as if he wanted to run out of the room and search for the boy.

True to form, Molly Weasley gave a loud dramatic gasp and clutched at her husband's arm. Several others had gasped too but none had done so in such a loud and annoying fashion. Others began to mutter amongst themselves and Mad Eye Moody's magical eye swivelled upwards as he searched for the boy.

"Was...was he that kid you were having us watch Professor?" Hestia Jones asked after a while.

"I'm afraid so, yes", Dumbledore replied. "His upbringing was unfortunate but what matters now is that we have him, and that we work swiftly to gain his trust."

"What's he like?" a young Auror called Nymphadora Tonks asked.

"Loud and aggravating, with a terrible accent", Dumbledore answered her, frowning as he did so. "And he's not very trusting. Molly, I want you to be his mother figure an coax him onto our side, I trust you know what to do. Introduce him to Ronald and Ginevra as soon as possible so that he can have Light influences of his own age to use as an example."

"Fer wha'" said a heavily Cockney accented voice from the doorway. The Order looked up in shock to take in the newcomer's appearance. He was tall, thin and rather scruffy, and he was twirling a wand between his slender fingers.

"Fer bein' yer saviour?" he continued. "Tha's nice an' all bu' I don' need or wan' 'friends' 'oo jus' see a scar on me 'ead an' your orders."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, bringing the Order's attention back to himself.

"My I introduce Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, previously known as Aryn Vesper", he said.

"Still known as Aryn Vesper, ya daft bastard", Aryn interjected.

Sirius couldn't hold back a snicker, nor Molly a gasp of horror. Aryn fixed them both with strange looks before returning his gaze to Dumbledore.

"How did you get into this room?" Dumbledore asked in a pleasant tone of voice. "You were stunned and both this room and the room you were in are heavily warded. And where did you get your wand? I would have known if you had bought it at Ollivanders."

"Good fing I din' buy it there then, ain't it?" Aryn replied cooly. "I got it dahn the wand shop at Ripper's Well. And the wards? Pathetic! They were easy to take down, I seen 'arder ones on wallets! And as for tha' stunner, cheap shot, by th' way, I can trow 'em off. Me father taught me 'ow."

"There's a wand shop in Ripper's Well?" another Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt asked.

"If ya know where ta look", Aryn replied smirking. "It don' sell convenshunal wands, see? Mine's a twelve inch cyprus un wi' a werewolf an' vampire 'air core. Won' find tha' sota fing at Ollivanders."

Dumbledore cleared his throat once more.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave Harry", he said sternly. "Children are not allowed to attend Order meetings."

"Th' mee'in's 'bout me ain't it?" Aryn asked. "So why can' I stay? Or am I not s'posed to know wha' yer plottin' ta do wi' me?"

"He has a point Albus", Remus Lupin said softly and a couple of the other members nodded. Dumbledore relented, knowing that a refusal would just make his situation worse with the boy who was smiling at him nastily.

"Righ' then", Aryn said chirpily. "I'll park mesel' next ta wolfie over there, an' we can ge' on wi' this."

He flopped bonelessly on the sofa next to a shocked looking Remus Lupin and looked at Dumbledore expectantly, still twirling his wand between his fingers.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to Sliver of Melody, ApocSM, Kaaera, dasadasd, PsychicLunar, Mikutalla, Saeadame, goddessa39, tidus2529, htbmny, Beautiful Orubus, kazoua, Selena Slytherin, otherworld, blackdove, momocolady, Wraith, blackash, jbcna, Nocens, ladydarkness45, Kimpatsu no Hoseki, Irihi Safaia, Starzlitex, wolfzmasterz, Fire-Hawk-1986, SaphireGems, shadow, New Dye, Batsutousai, KaylaisEvenstar, Cap'n BlackRose, VeelaRabidFangirl and Lady Foxy Roxy for reviewing.

Due to general unpopularity the Q&A is now at an end. Also the Death Eater/ Dark Supporter poll is closed, votes have been counted and a decision has been made. Thank you all for your opinions and your continuing support. Remember to review at the end of the chapter!

Disclaimer: If you think I own this then you need to seek professional help. I did, and it works.

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 4

Jericho Vesper was pissed off.

That sentiment permeated his entire being as he stalked down Knockturn Alley, and everyone who valued their life got out of his way. Quickly.

He knew exactly who had taken his son, and he knew the reason why. But what annoyed him the most was that he had no idea where they had taken him. And to add insult to injury; if he ever wanted to see his son again he was going to have to ask for help.

Unfortunately, his options of who to ask for help were severely limited. It wasn't as if he could go and ask the Order of the Flaming Ostrich or the Ministry of Idiots for their help, and that left him a choice of mercenaries and Lord Voldemort. Wonderful. Voldemort would rather kill the boy than help find him and mercenaries were...well, they were mercenaries and would work for whoever was willing to increase their bank balance.

So that was why Jericho was seeking out a man who he knew was a loyal Death Eater with regular contact with the Dark Lord. And, gods help him, if that Dark Lord even looked at his son in the wrong way then he would find his throat taking a permanant vacation from his body.

Jerichoslammed open the door to Borgin and Burkes so hard that the door came off its hinges. Borgin, halfway through an important deal with Lucius Malfoy, looked up from the poisonous blade on his counter and froze, staring wildly at the ancient vampire whose Dark aura lashed out violently through the shop. He gulped.

"Malfoy", Jericho hissed, his crimson eyes flashing as they laid on the Veela male.

"Lord Vesper", Malfoy replied, bowing. "What can I do for you?"

"Take me to your Lord Voldemort", Jericho ordered. "I have something with which I need his assistance."

Malfoy nodded, picked up the blade and threw a bag of galleons at the greasy haired shopkeeper.

"Please", he said, his voice calm. "Follow me."

HPLVHPLVHPLV

If Voldemort hadn't believed Lucius when he had said that the vampire currently known as Jericho Vesper needed his hepl, then he certainly believed it now. The vampire was pacing accross the deep, blood red carpet in Voldemort's lavish office with his handsome features set in a hatefull scowl and his fists clenched so hard that black blood was pooling between his fingers.

After a while he paused in his pacing and turned to face the confused mortal that was nursing a snifter of brandy, that he would most certainly need later.

"My son", Jericho started. "Has been kidnapped by the Order of the Phoenix. I need you to help me find him".

"And what would Dumbledore want with Aryn?" Voldemort asked curiously.

"He wants to use Aryn as a pawn in your little human war", Jericho explained. "He believes that, as Aryn is really Harry Potter, that..."

"He's WHAT!" Voldemort roared.

"Harry Potter, and Dumbledore wants to train him to destroy you."

Voldemort gaped at the vampire.

"I suppose it's true what they say that the mind is the first thing affected by age", he murmured after a while. "You are aware that I will have to kill the boy?"

"Of course" Jericho conceded."But are you aware that Dumbledore could have fed you a false prophecy? That if you formed an alliance with my son 'die at the hand of the other' would be irrelevant? That in comparison to his utter contempt for the Light, Aryn is madly in love with you?"

"What?" Voldemort whispered.

"Of course he hasn't even admitted this to himself", Jericho continued. "Bu I can smell it on him every time that you walk into the shop or come up in conversation. He loves you, and in return you want to kill him rather than find him and make him and his power yours..."

"Fine!" Voldemort snapped, interrupting the rambling ancient. "Fine. I'll help you look for him. But you'd better be right about his feelings."

Jericho smirked triumphantly as the Dark Lord stalked out of the room.

Roman politics were evidently still useful for something.


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, I'll try to make this as brief as I can. I'd like to thank everyone for their reviews of Chapter 4, especially those of you who gave me some constructive criticism. It was very much appreciated and this Fic is now being beta'd.

As for putting this Fic on hiatus? Well...I'm sorry for doing that. The problem is that I was barely aware of the fact that I was doing it. I was entering another depressive relapse and I was admitted to hospital the next day. I know this may be hard for some of you to understand, but please bear with me. I love this Fic, I really do. But when I'm depressed I do stupid things, and I can't take any medication for it because of the various other conditions I have.

Your pleas for continuation and reassurance that you liked my Fic meant so much to me and it made my day when I was released again. For those of you who will no longer read this Fic, or hate me for things that I cannot help, then I don't really care. You can do what you want.

Thanks again to all my fans; you make me so happy. /hands out Aryn and Jericho plushies/

Red Sun Rising

by Evandar

Chapter 5

It had taken them quite a while, but the Order had eventually gotten Aryn to respond as they wanted him to. He had dropped his thick, London accent in favour of a neutral one, and he had been 'trained' up to the level of a Hogwarts Fifth Year.

His 'teachers' had ignored him when he had pointed out, and demonstrated, that he was already miles ahead of his peers, academically. Instead, they continued to set him menial tasks in an attempt to bore him into submission.

The other teenagers in the Headquarters were his enforced companions whenever he wasn't in his lessons. They were Ron and Ginny Weasley, the youngest two children in the formidable Weasley clan, and a Mudblood know-it-all, called Hermione Granger. Aryn hated all three of them. They were constantly watching him and following him around like lost puppies, or terrible spies, and they talked incessantly about Quidditch, books and Hogwarts.

When he had inevitably snapped and actually called the Granger bitch a 'pathetic, snivelling Mudblood' with a 'hero worshipping pet' (Ron) he had caused a huge uproar in the house. Apparently, the Order had expected him to revert instantly into a perfect role model for future wizards once they had taken him away from the Death Eaters and vampires of his childhood. When he had proved them wrong, he had been subjected to an hour long lecture on his manners and language, courtesy of Dumbledore, and another lecture on 'how to treat his friends'. He had practically given 'Aunty Molly' an aneurism when he had asked 'what friends?' in an innocent tone of voice.

Since then he had managed to hold his tongue and live with the constant whinging and pleas for attention. He had decided to bide his time, as fighting them wasn't working, and wait until he could get a hold of an hour and an owl, so he could contact his father. He would play along with Dumbledore's little game, but not for long.

HPLVHPLVHPLVHPLV

"Dumbledore will want to show off his new toy," Voldemort mused, pacing the thick, black carpet of his office. "He'll also want to keep the boy where he can see, control and play with him. There's only one place in the whole world where Dumbledore can do all of those at the same time."

"Hogwarts," Jericho finished. Voldemort nodded.

"We can't attack the place directly, Dumbledore has too great a control over the wards," the Dark Lord continued. "So, we will have to get a hold of Aryn before he arrives there. Do you want to attack the train or the platform?"

"The platform," Jericho decided after a moment's thought. "It's more public, so it will be easier to get into and there'll be more panic and chaos for Dumbledore's chess pieces to deal with."

Voldemort agreed.

HPLVHPLVHPLVHPLV

Aryn scowled as he was herded onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters, by the Weasleys and several of the Aurors that were also a part of the Order. Mad Eye Moody, Sirius and Remus, or 'Wolfie' as Aryn called him, had been against his travelling on the train and would have much preferred him to take the Floo. But their idea was dismissed for being sensible, when instead; Dumbledore wanted 'Harry' to travel as a traditional member of the school.

Translation: Dumbledore wanted to show off his control over the 'Golden Boy'.

The Granger girl was talking to him again; something about how much he would enjoy the school. Despite his obvious dislike for her, she was determined to be his friend and never left him alone. She had delighted in telling him the page numbers, paragraphs and line numbers of the various books he was in, as well as describing Hogwarts to him in detail, from the Great Hall down to the smallest trick step, in the most obscure section of the dungeons.

Not killing her had become Aryn's daily chore.

The platform was packed with wizards and witches of all ages. Tearful parents were saying their goodbyes to children that were too caught up in seeing their friends again to really care. Aryn felt a strange surge of anger and jealousy towards the students; they disregarded their parent's concerns, when he had never had the chance to say goodbye to his own father before he had been kidnapped.

His moment of self pity was interrupted by the screams.

His 'guard' instantly sprung into action and hurried him onto the train with Ron, Hermione and Ginny at his sides. Twisting round to look out of the window, Aryn saw familiar figures in hooded black cloaks and white masks swarming over the platform, as the air around them went black with an even more familiar evil. He caught sight of the Order members running off to help fight the Death Eaters off, not noticing the source of the Dark Aura. At the end of the platform, walking towards the train, were two men; one dressed in a hooded blood-red robe and the other in a loose red shirt, black leather pants and a red cloak.

"Father", Aryn whispered, his heart leaping in his chest. "Tom."

He started towards the door of the train, only to run into Hermione and Ron.

"Harry, no!" Hermione cried. "You can't go out there, it's dangerous!"

Aryn glared at her and he lashed out. He caught the girl in the throat, with suddenly clawed fingers, and ripped out her trachea. The girl dropped to the floor like a stone, bleeding from the deep gash and trying to breathe through the ruins of her throat. Her eyes were wide with fear and panic as she saw Aryn lift Ron up by the neck and through him into the wall of the train, before raising his wand and whispering an incantation that the girl didn't recognise; 'crucificio', although by the sound of Ron's agonised screams she realised that it was not a nice spell.

The last thing that Hermione Granger saw was Aryn Vesper coldly stepping over her body, ignoring her presence, and the look of fear and horror in Ginny Weasley's eyes.

HPLVHPLVHPLVHPLV

Aryn stepped out onto the platform and began to make his way through the panic, to where he had last seen his father and the Dark Lord. He cut a path through the civilians and Aurors with his wand and his claws, only sparing the Death Eaters, in his desperation to reach his father.

He felt helpless in the press of bodies. The noise and the heat were unbearable, but he refused to let them get to him, he had to find his father. An arm wrapped around his waist from behind and he felt his body get pulled back against a taller, thin one. A familiar velveteen voice filled his ear, only seconds later.

"Your father is here. It might take him a while to reach us. Wait with me."

Aryn nodded. "Tom", he whispered, as he felt his energy and adrenaline drain from him. "Take care of me?"

"Of course," the Dark Lord answered.

Voldemort felt the boy sag against him, as he slipped into unconsciousness. He pulled the boy up, closer against his own body, unable to stop himself from wondering at how perfectly they fit together.

As he killed a passing Auror, Lord Voldemort promised to himself that he and Jericho would be having some words, very soon. Jericho had mentioned nothing about the boy's vampiric side, when he had promised the boy to him as a consort.


	7. Chapter 7

Thankyou to all my reviewers. Your names are too numerous to write down, and I'm trying to cut down on Author's Notes, so all I can do is thank you. For those of you who didn't know, I took this Fic off hiatus as soon as I left hospital and replaced the Notes with the actual chapter, so you'll have to read that first. My explanation for my actions is also there.

Thank you for staying with me through this. On another note, this Fic is now being beta'd by Anubiset and TyRisha from where this Fic is also posted.

Disclaimer: I don't own, you don't sue. Especially seeing as how I'm not making any money off this.

Red Sun Rising

by Evandar

Chapter 6

Jericho brushed Harry's fringe from his forehead and smiled down on his adopted son. The boy had at last been returned to him, and he was, physically at least, perfectly healthy. Jericho hadn't expected anything else, seeing as how Dumbledore had wanted to make him his pet hero, not kill him; but mentally, Jericho wasn't so sure. He knew that Harry had done something; he had been found in his transformed state, with blood on his claws, but he didn't know what could have pushed his son so far.

He looked up as the door to the guest chamber opened and the Dark Lord walked in.

"You owe me an explanation," Voldemort stated as he closed the door. "You told me the boy was a human."

"I did," the vampire admitted. "And I spoke the truth; Harry is human...mostly."

"Mostly," Voldemort sounded disbelieving.

"I only gave him a little boost," Jericho said, holding up his hands and smiling. "I mixed my blood in with his milk when he was a child. It has only given him certain vampiric qualities; claws, fangs, half a vampire's strength and speed, and a liking for raw meat. Other than that, he is completely human."

"I see," Voldemort murmured, approaching the bed and sitting down next to the boy; opposite Jericho. "This changes nothing; I still want him as my consort."

Jericho only smiled and brushed back Harry's hair once more.

"But he will be known as Harry," Voldemort continued. "I want Dumbledore to know that he has lost."

"Is that the only reason you want my son?" Jericho asked, still looking down at the unconscious boy.

"No," the Dark Lord admitted. "I wish for another to rule beside me, to bring me an alliance with the vampires, and, indeed, someone to love. I think I could do that, over time."

"Politics and companionship," the vampire mused. "How very Roman of you. Like I said before, I will kill you if you hurt my son, but I do understand that you will have other motives besides attraction in your courtship of him."

"Good," Voldemort replied. "I don't suppose you know what triggered his transformation?"

"No", Jericho sighed. "We will find out, however, from Harry, or the Daily Prophet, if he does not wake up in time. I suspect that he has at least maimed someone, if not killed them; there was blood on his claws, and havok on the train, as well as the platform."

"I don't blame him if he did," Voldemort muttered. "It was probably one of the Order's children, they would have been guarding him and making sure that he didn't leave the train once the fight started. Unfortunately for them, they underestimated their charge."

Voldemort nodded and tentatively reached out to touch the boy's hand. It was warm and smooth in his own, with slightly long fingers. He lifted it to his lips and gently kissed it, willing the boy to awake. He did not; Harry simply shifted and smiled in his sleep, making the Dark Lord smile too.

'Yes,' he thought. 'Maybe love will not be so bad after all.'

HPLVHPLVHPLVHPLV

Albus Dumbledore was furious. Nothing had gone as planned and they had lost the boy once more, and on top of that, Hogwarts had lost her most promising student, as well as a future Order member. The youngest of the Weasley boys was in the Infirmary, with his family watching over him, being treated for wounds gained from a Dark curse; performed by the Boy Who Lived. The Minister of Magic was talking about withdrawing public funds from Hogwarts and the Ministry itself was in an uproar; never before had Albus Dumbledore been so questioned, and never had he made such a public mistake as this.

But how was he supposed to know that Harry Potter was a half vampire? There hadn't been any clues, or had there? He had known what Remus Lupin was, without being told; he could throw off stunners and most minor spells and curses, and Ronald Weasley had reported that the boy was far stronger than he should have been, following an incident where Ronald had been thrown down the stairs by the other boy.

What Albus was afraid of now, was the questions. How far would the wizarding world take their inquisition, and how far would he fall from grace because of it? What did the Order make of these events, and how could he stop them from abandoning him in favour of Fudge, or, heaven forbid, Voldemort himself. He already knew that some of his alliances were uneasy, and this would just make matters worse, especially with the non-humans that he had almost won onto his side. There was no chance of him getting the vampires now, and Remus had reported unrest amongst the Were-packs, partially due to the fact that the Greyback clan had already declared their allegiance to the Dark Lord.

Dumbledore hadn't overlooked the fact that Remus was one of the few Greyback wolves that were either on his side, or undecided. He would need to keep a close watch on the Order's werewolf from now on, or use Sirius to tie him to them forever. He wouldn't risk killing the only surviving descendant of the most powerful werewolf in the whole of Northern Europe; that would be signing the whole Were population over to the Dark.

Albus Dumbledore, found himself in need of a large brandy, some lemon drops, and a plan.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Thanks to all my reviewers and great apologies for not updating this sooner. I've been trying to fight off rabid plot bunnies, you see. I think I'm going to have to get some better weapons…

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I never will. I'm not making any money from this story either. If I was I'd have money. /sighs/ I do, however, own Jericho Vesper and his various incarnations excluding Lucius Valerius. He was real, according to Livy, I'm just using him.

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 7

**HAVOC ON THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS**

'The new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry started in tragedy, writes Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter, when Platform 9 ¾ was attacked by Dark forces yesterday morning. The attack came with no warning and left many of the country's finest witches and wizards, as well as many of the students, dead or seriously wounded.

'But surrounding the attack are several sinister and troubling rumours; that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was present and being assisted, not only by a currently unknown Master Vampire, but by the Boy-Who-Lived.

'Harry Potter has been missing for the past fourteen years, and despite the Ministry's best efforts, he has remained untraceable. But yesterday, he seems to have been central to the carnage, with many people swearing that they saw him fighting his way from the train to the Dark Lord.

'So far, Albus Dumbledore has ignored all enquiries as to what Mr Potter was doing on the Hogwarts Express, and Ministry officials are refusing, so far, to make a comment. This reporter smells a cover up, and urges the public to make enquiries as to the true events of September 1st.

'If there is anyone with any information as to the whereabouts of the Boy-Who-Lived or the Vampire who aided in the attack, please come forward. If the attack effected you, please owl the Daily Prophet's counselling service for help and advice.'

HPLV

In his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore dropped the morning's Daily Prophet onto his desk and buried his face in his hands. The article couldn't have been more damaging, if it had sided openly with the Dark Lord.

It was only out of loyalty to him that the Ministry had kept quiet so far, but that loyalty was wavering. He knew that with the emergence of this article and of Potter's involvement, the Ministry would soon make a statement in order to clear themselves of all knowledge of the boy's existence. Then, the attention of the public would turn to him, locked away in his castle of stone, with the Wizarding world's future under his care. Soon, his mistake of trying to bring Harry Potter to Hogwarts would be out, and his followers would begin to question his motives, and look to others for guidance.

And there was nothing he could do to reassure them.

Other than that, he had little choice of what to do; he could admit to what he had done and show the world that he was fallible after all, or he could hold his head high, keep his silence and enrage the people who had trusted him with their children. Either way, he had to track down Harry Potter once more; the boy was far too valuable to the Light for him to give up now.

HPLV

Lord Voldemort leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head, smiling slightly. The article in the paper was perfect; it questioned Dumbledore's motives without being too open about it, it concentrated on the rumours surrounding the attack and it would cause mass hysteria. Even better, he hadn't even organised it! The Wizarding world was doing his work for him.

Lowering his arms, he began to consider organising a Ministry leak, just to spread the panic, but decided that the Ministry would act on its own to attempt to clear its name, and instead, make things worse. His smile spread when he thought about how Dumbledore would be taking this. The old man was probably plotting already, trying to find ways to get out of this mess with as little damage to his reputation as possible. And, of course, it was Voldemort's duty to make that as hard for him as he could.

He snapped his fingers to summon a House Elf.

"Yes Master?" the elf asked, appearing with a crack of displaced air.

"Get Vesper, Greyback and Lucius immediately," he ordered. "And get another Elf to guard the boy and alert us when he awakes."

"Yes Master," the Elf said, bowing low, before she vanished with another crack.

He didn't have long to wait before Malfoy and Greyback knocked on his study door and entered, while Jericho just stepped out of the shadows by his bookcase.

"I trust you have good reason to drag me away from my unconscious son," Vesper said coldly, gliding across the room to stand in front of Voldemort's desk.

"I need your aid," Voldemort replied. "Just a small thing, really. Please, sit down."

He conjured three chairs and his allies all sat, each of them looking at him intently.

"I want to organise a treaty between our side and the Vampires," he continued. "Jericho, you are already on our side and you hold great sway over the Vampire Council."

"I am a member of it," Jericho drawled, inspecting his claws.

"I would like you to contact them, telling them that you have been greatly insulted by the Light and that to fight against them, with allies in the Dark, would be beneficial to the whole of the Vampire race."

"I've already informed them of Harry's kidnapping," Vesper replied, looking up at Voldemort. "He's popular with several of the other Council members, their Childer and their human pets… they have already offered their assistance in my revenge."

Voldemort nodded, but inside he frowned. He hated how that damned Vampire could predict his political movements before he could. But then, he did have centuries of practise.

"Good," he said, taking a deep breath. "Fenrir, how do we stand with the other Lycanthrope packs?"

"Two major Wolf packs have contacted me already," he reported. "Both wishing to ally themselves to the Dark. The other Wolf packs are all wavering between Dark and Neutral; the Light's treatment of their pups disgusts them. Also, my wayward heir has contacted me. Potter, it seems, is his Mate's godson, and after seeing Dumbledore's treatment of him, they both acknowledge that he is happier in the Dark, and that it would be better for their pack relationship if they also switched sides. Both of them are in the Order of the Phoenix.

"All of the Rats, Snakes, Hyenas and Foxes have joined us, and the Leopards have expressed their wish to discuss a treaty with us."

"Excellent," Voldemort smiled. "Organise that for me, will you Fenrir?"

The werewolf nodded and bared his pointed teeth in a smile, golden eyes glittering. Voldemort then turned his attention to Lucius.

"And how are things at the Ministry?" he asked.

"Chaotic," the blonde man replied with a small smirk. "Fudge and his yes-men are running around trying to find out what they had missed. The Auror Department is up in arms; they apparently had the boy in their custody at the beginning of the summer, but he went missing. Obviously taken by Dumbledore and a few members of his Order, but they're torn between their loyalty to Dumbledore, and the silence that entails, and their jobs. Naturally, the Unspeakables are saying nothing, but there have been rumours that their alliance, as a group, has shifted since yesterday morning.

"The Ministry is planning to release a statement tomorrow, to try and counteract the damage Skeeter did this morning."

"Good, we need not do anything about that for now," Voldemort decided. "The Light is doing a fine job of defeating itself. For now, we should concentrate on our political alliances. The Dark needs to show a united front, with a large power base."

"Leave the initial contacts to myself and the puppy," Jericho said softly, indicating Fenrir, who bristled slightly, but let it go. "You concentrate on what it is, exactly, that you plan to offer our people."

Voldemort nodded and was about to add something, when there was a loud crack and a House Elf appeared in the middle of the room.

"Excuse me Sirs," it said. "But Master Potter is awake now."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I make no money from writing about it. Do not sue.

Note: Sorry this took so long to update, but one of my beta's is very busy and takes a while to get back to me with the corrected chapter. Please remember that once a chapter has been sent out, things are out of my hands until it is sent back. As it is, I only received the final, corrected version this morning and I'm posting it right away. I hope this is good enough for you. For future reference, all information on any of my stories can be found on my profile.

Note 2: Harry/Voldemort interaction doesn't happen in this chapter. I wanted to write about the other major characters in the story, and get them up to date. This chapter takes place just after the battle on the Platform.

Chapter 8

It would have been so easy to blame Harry Potter or Voldemort, but as Fred and George Weasley looked at their sleeping brother, they found themselves unable to do so.

After the battle on the Platform had finished, the Aurors and several frantic parents had dashed onto the train to get the children out of there. That was when Ron, Ginny and Hermione, had been found. From there, they were taken to Saint Mungo's Hospital; Hermione was taken down to the morgue, while Ron and Ginny were taken straight to the Children's Ward. Ron had to be sedated and was currently unconscious; Ginny had finally stopped crying and was sitting in her mother's lap, being rocked back and forth. Fred and George were sitting by their brother's side, waiting to be picked up by their father, Percy, Bill or Charlie, so that they could go home.

As soon as the fight had finished, all Ministry workers had been called in, even if it was their day off, so that they could try to deal with the mess that the Dark Order had caused, but the twins couldn't help but wonder if it had really been the Dark side that had caused the trouble. After all, the Dark hadn't kidnapped Harry Potter and tried to mould him into something, he clearly didn't want to be.

Fred and George were often underestimated. Almost everyone, including their own family, thought that they were nothing more than a loud and boisterous pair of trouble makers, but that was not the case. Potter…Vesper, whatever he called himself, had seen through their masks almost immediately and had caught a glimpse of the real twins, in between their continually failing attempts to prank him.

They were clever, and almost eerily observant. They had never told anyone, especially their family, but they had almost been Sorted into Slytherin, for their cunning. They had a network of informants throughout the school, and they knew more about the castle, the portraits and the people, than any other student had in years. If a mouse caught the hiccups in Hogwarts, they heard about it.

So in comparison, knowing the goings on at Grimmauld Place, was easy for them. Even though they were not allowed in the Order meetings, they could give rough estimates of what had gone on in them, by reading the moods of the adults the next morning, and by watching to see who attended them.

But they had never been so confused by one person, until they met Harry Potter. They had, like all Wizarding children, been raised with the idea that he was the perfect image for the Light; good, pure, strong and brave, with a habit for self-sacrifice and a pleasant personality. The perfect Gryffindor. The Harry Potter they had met that summer had been nothing of the sort; his entire demeanour screamed of Darkness. He was intelligent, worldly, cunning, violent, observant, passionate…and he hid it all behind so many masks, that it made their heads spin. The first one they had encountered, was of a foul-mouthed Cockney street rat, who soon became the first class idiot, followed by the reluctant scholar and then, right at the end of the holidays, he became the Light's icon; the brave, sensitive young man, they had dreamed of.

But good little boys did not watch Order members like snakes about to strike, good little boys did not borrow books on Dark magic from the Black family library, and good little boys did not tear people's throats out. Looking back on their summer holiday, the twins could see so many places where Dumbledore, the Order and their parents, had gone wrong. They could see that, towards the end, others, like Sirius, Lupin and Mad Eye had noticed Potter's real nature reflected in those shocking viridian eyes, and they could see that Potter had known exactly what he was doing. He had played them all.

But what they couldn't see, was why Potter had given everyone so many warnings and why those warnings had been ignored.

Could it be, that the boy who had murdered Hermione Granger and crucified their little brother, was not really evil? That he had known he would snap under all the pressure the Order was putting on him? That he hadn't really wanted to hurt anyone?

But those…those were dangerous thoughts. If that was true, then it would put Dumbledore in the wrong, and if they believed that Harry Potter was not entirely at fault, didn't that tarnish the Light and throw all their beliefs, and those of their family, off centre?

George turned to look at his brother, only to find that Fred was already staring at him. He reached out and gripped his twin's hand tightly and gave him a meaningful look. Fred nodded and George relaxed slightly; his silent message had been understood. It was time for the Weasley twins to switch sides in this war.

HPLVHPLV

Remus Lupin was in turmoil. He knew that the Order was crumbling and he had seen it coming, from the moment Harry Potter had walked into the Order's meeting and confronted Dumbledore. But what could he do?

Once the news about Harry's kidnapping broke, he knew that the were-packs would join with Voldemort. They had been tempted before, but this would destroy the Light's chance of ever getting them on their side. If there was one thing that lycanthropes prided themselves on, it was the treatment of their young, and Dumbledore had neglected the children under his care. His stubbornness, when it came to controlling Harry Potter, had placed all the young witches and wizards on that train, in great danger. More than one student had actually died.

So now, Remus' already fragile pack was splintering further. His patron – Fenrir Greyback – was firmly on the Dark side and he had been for years. It was the same with Harry, the cub of Remus' pack, and Peter, the man he had once considered a brother. And now, Remus was unsure of his own allegiances. But on the other hand, there was Sirius, his mate, the most important person in Remus' life. Sirius may have grown up in a Dark family, but he had hated it and he had been trying to distance himself from the Dark for his entire life. The Dark reminded him too much of the cruelty he had suffered at the hands of his family. It had taken Remus – a known Dark creature - a long time to persuade Sirius to be his mate, and that had been made easier, by the fact that they had already been in love. To try and persuade Sirius to turn his back on the Light completely… Remus shuddered, to think what could happen.

A soft noise reached his sharp ears and he turned just in time to see Sirius enter the room, his mouth set in a grim line and his eyes flashing angrily.

"Dumbledore should have listened," he said. "He went too far, and now people are dead because of it. Is this; is the Light really worth it Remus? Are we really that different from the Dark? If Dumbledore, the greatest Light wizard since Merlin, can disregard the lives of so many, then is fighting for him worth it?"

"Sirius? What are you saying?" Remus asked.

"I'm saying…I want to be with Harry," Sirius explained. "I'd rather fight alongside him and Voldemort if it meant that things would change."

Remus couldn't stop himself. He pulled Sirius into his arms and kissed him passionately. Sirius stood still in shock for a moment, before he reacted, wrapping his arms around Remus and pulling him closer. When they broke apart, Remus nuzzled Sirius affectionately and smiled.

"I'll get in touch with Fenrir," he said softly.

"You aren't angry that I want to change sides?" Sirius asked.

"No," Remus assured him. "I want to as well; Dumbledore has gone too far and I can't keep living in a broken pack. Besides, I have to take up my position as the Beta wolf in the Greyback pack, eventually."

"I suppose so," Sirius mused, and then he grinned wickedly. "Say Moony, what do you say about going upstairs and celebrating this change of sides?"

"I thought you would never ask, my dear Padfoot," Remus replied, grinning back. "But why bother going up all those stairs?"

Sirius yelped in surprise as Remus shoved him onto the sofa and straddled his lap, kissing him hard and ripping his shirt open. Why bother going upstairs indeed.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, make money from writing about the characters of Harry Potter. I do not own them, and I am in no way affiliated with their owners. However, the character of Jericho Vesper belongs to me, along with his various incarnations excluding Lucius Valerius, who was a real man.

AN: Sorry about the length of this. Thank you to all my reviewers. Thanks especially to those of you who pointed out some minor plot holes. I'm busy working on those right now. I'm busy working on several stories at the moment as well as exams, so I probably won't update until later in the summer.

AN2: Red Sun Rising, to my joy, is being translated into French by SamaraXX. If there are any of you who would be more comfortable reading the French version, there is a link to it in my profile.

AN3: I'm also writing side stories to this Fic. Although there is only one out at the moment, more will be on the way. They deal with Harry's upbringing and will hopefully explain some aspects of his character. They are called 'Dark Side Stories' and you just have to follow my profile to get there. Please tell me what you think.

Red Sun Rising

Chapter 9

Two days later, at five in the morning, a decidedly dishevelled looking Remus Lupin sat at the desk in the bedroom he shared with Sirius Black, quill in hand, staring at a blank sheet of parchment. He had been there for over half an hour.

The past two days had been filled with emotional trials for the couple. They had decided to leave the Order, but turning Dark was so much more difficult than they had previously imagined it would be. Peter's betrayal, James and Lily's murder at the hands of Voldemort, Sirius' family… all of that was hanging over them and haunting their thoughts, but like the sturdy Gryffindors they were, they had stayed true to their resolution.

What Remus was worrying over now was the letter he had to write to his patron and pack leader – Fenrir Greyback – to tell him that they had made their decision. But unfortunately, Remus had no idea how to word his switch of sides to a man he had not spoken to directly, for over twenty years. It was proving to be a nightmare.

Finally, an hour after he had started his task, he decided that fancy wording and sucking up were not necessary in this case, when instead; he could give a brief and honest answer to Fenrir's offer.

He wrote his short letter and sent it off with his rather nondescript owl. He watched the owl fly away, bearing slightly north-east, until he could no longer see it. Then he turned back to his bed with a gentle sigh and slid back under the covers, next to Sirius. The slender man automatically snuggled up close and looped one of his arms around Remus' chest, making him smile. Just a few minutes later; Remus Lupin was fast asleep.

HPLVHPLV

(Later that afternoon)

Harry groaned as he sat up, opening his eyes slowly. He jumped as he heard a loud crack and looked around wildly before he realised that it had to have been a House Elf leaving the room. The sudden movement hurt and he raised a hand to his head as he blinked away the dizziness. He whimpered softly; he was not going to do that again in a hurry.

But where was he? His quick scan of the room had shown it to be completely unfamiliar. The black carpet and dark furniture reminded him of his attic room at home, but the walls were painted green instead of the blue and silver patterns he was used to.

Bright light shone through the window to his left and fell on the bed, picking out the delicate silver embroidery on the comforter. The window was surrounded by heavy, green velvet drapes that pooled on the floor, and opposite the window was a door. Another door was in the wall next to his bed on the side of the window, and Harry guessed that it probably led to an en suite.

So he definitely wasn't at home, then where? Harry looked around the room again and noticed the conspicuous lack of portraits hanging on the walls. That meant that they weren't in Grimmauld Place either. He had realised within a few days of his stay at the Order Headquarters that Albus Dumbledore used the portraits that hung in every room of the house to spy on his unsuspecting followers. The portraits were loyal and efficient, but they always seemed obvious to Harry.

He had now eliminated the possibilities of his being at home or at Grimmauld Place, and now had no idea where he was in the slightest. The presence of a House Elf implied two things; a manor house and a lot of money. The manor probably belonged to a pureblood too. Harry stood up slowly and wrapped the green comforter around his body to keep warm; he was only wearing a thin pair of pyjamas after all. He walked carefully over to the window and leaned against the frame for support as he looked out. The manor – Harry now knew for sure that it was – was surrounded by beautiful lush gardens, with fountains and what looked to be a maze. There was a forest off in the distance and just peeking out from behind the trees was a village. The whole place radiated peace and tranquillity, and Harry sighed. It was so beautiful here, and so very different from London.

He heard the door open behind him and turned to see his father enter the room with a worried expression on his face that soon changed to relief when he saw Harry standing by the window. He was closely followed by Fenrir Greyback, Lord Voldemort and a man, Harry guessed, was Lucius Malfoy. He had seen the man's picture in the newspaper several times as the Malfoys were a very notable and prominent family, even if they were Dark.

"Pater," Harry greeted, with a slight nod. "Fenrir, Lord Voldemort, Mister Malfoy."

Jericho stopped in front of him and pulled Harry gently into his arms. Harry trembled in his father's embrace, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.

"It's alright," Jericho murmured to him in Latin. "I'm here now, you're safe."

Harry felt someone embrace him from behind and he stiffened, until he recognised the familiar earthy scent of Fenrir. The werewolf kissed his hair gently and tightened his grip on both Harry and Jericho. They stood together for a while, locked in that tender embrace, before a delicate cough reminded them that they had company.

"We need to know what happened to you," Jericho told Harry gently as he pulled away slightly. He looked down into his son's eyes and saw the uncertainty there. "You can wait a while if you want, but…"

"No," Harry interrupted. "I just want to get it over and done with so I can get on with my life."

"Very well," Voldemort said, speaking for the first time. "Why don't you start from when you were captured."

HPLVHPLV

After Harry had finished recounting his tale, Voldemort and Malfoy left to develop plans of attack around what he had been able to tell them. He hadn't been able to give them the address of the Order Headquarters, but he had been able to tell them enough to guess. A few minutes later, a House Elf appeared to tell Fenrir that the Dark Lord required his presence. This left Harry alone with Jericho.

Jericho took a deep, unnecessary breath and Harry instantly knew that something was worrying his father. Breathing was a nervous habit for the ancient vampire. And indeed, Harry was right. Jericho knew that he had to tell Harry about his deal with the Dark Lord, and he couldn't help but be reluctant. He still wanted to protect Harry from everything, even though he knew he could not.

"Pater, what's wrong?" Harry asked, lifting his head from Jericho's chest. They had curled up together on the bed, for comfort, after everyone had left and Harry was now using his father as a kind of mattress.

"In order to get Voldemort to help me find you I had to make a deal with him," Jericho said slowly. "In return for his cooperation I promised you to him."

"Promised me?" Harry asked, shocked. "You want me to marry him? Or is this only as his consort or as a Death Eater? He doesn't want to kill me?"

The teenager was trembling slightly and Jericho responded by tightening his hold on the boy.

"Marriage," he affirmed. "Voldemort has not mentioned yet, whether he wants you to become a Death Eater as well, but he seems to find you quite attractive, and he has given his word not to kill you, or harm you in any way."

"You trust him?" Harry asked, though he was beginning to calm down.

"Not in the slightest," Jericho admitted. "But I know what people like him do, and threatened with the Vampire Council destroying everything he has worked so hard to build if he harms one hair on your head, he won't do anything.

"You don't have to marry him if you don't want to, I could just steal you away."

"And what would your leaving do to Fenrir?" Harry asked, and Jericho sighed softly. Harry cuddled up closer to him and rested his head back on the vampire's chest. "Pater…I think that I should, at the very least, get to know Voldemort before I even think about making a decision on whether or not to marry him."

"Very wise," Jericho agreed. "I just don't want you to get hurt Harry."

"Neither do I," Harry whispered back, as he closed his eyes. He soon fell asleep, leaving Jericho staring up at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks to all my reviewers.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do own Jericho, though. He is mine.

AN: For those who might be confused, Remus' letter arrives two days after the battle on the Platform, the same day that Harry wakes up. Also, this is my longest chapter to date. I hope it makes up for the delay in updating due to my rather nasty exams. Enjoy.

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 10

Lucius remained deep in thought as he left Potter's chambers with his Lord. The boy's description of the Order Headquarters sounded very familiar to him, as if he had been to that house before…which was, of course, ridiculous, as he was not a member and had no intention of becoming one.

He kept his musings silent however; as he was not in a location secure enough to do so out loud. The wards over the Dark Lord's fortress were incredibly strong, and the manor house and surrounding grounds that it comprised of had more enchantments over them than Hogwarts herself, and they had been built upon and improved over the centuries since the place had been built. The family that had lived here previously had been extremely paranoid, it seemed, and that suited Voldemort perfectly.

So Lucius wasn't worried about people breaking in, or intruders overhearing his theories on where the Order's Headquarters might be. In fact, he knew that anyone who tried to break in would, ah, be broken by the time they were found in the dungeons. No, it was the other inhabitants of the manor that Lucius was concerned about.

With the war now in full swing, the Dark Lord's position was precarious. This meant that several of his Death Eaters, under the pretence of being loyal servants to their Lord, would also be snooping around and trying together as much important information as possible so that if they were arrested, they could try and buy their way into a shorter sentence in Azkaban. Also, Lucius was aware of at least one spy in their ranks, as was Voldemort himself, and that meant that both of them were extremely reluctant to volunteer any conversation about what little information Potter had been able to give them in case they were overheard by someone who would report it to the Ministry or the Order itself. Lucius would have to wait until they had reached the safety of Voldemort's even more heavily warded office before he revealed what he thought, and what the relatively long walk while deep in thought had convinced him of.

Once they had arrived at their destination, Voldemort headed straight for his drink's cabinet, signalling to Lucius that while the Dark Lord was stressed and annoyed by the information, or lack thereof, that they had received that day, he was not quite stressed or annoyed enough to _crucio_ Lucius for breathing. A good sign if there ever was one.

"My Lord, I do not think that the situation is quite as dire as we might have initially believed," he said, his eyes following his Lord's movements as the brandy was poured.

"And why is that?" Voldemort asked, turning to face Lucius and holding out a snifter of the amber liquid, which Lucius took without hesitation, pausing only to cast a silent spell to see if there was anything…untoward…in it. There wasn't.

"Thank you, my Lord," he said, bowing his head, before continuing. "As I was saying, I recognised the description of the house. There is only one family I know of with the rather unfortunate habit of decapitating their House Elves and 'decorating' the hallways with them."

"And that would be…" Voldemort prompted.

"The Blacks, my Lord," Lucius answered. Voldemort tilted his head to one side in thought.

"I thought their family home was in the wilds of Derbyshire," he said. "Harry said that the view from the windows was of a city. And what on earth would you have been doing in the home of Sirius Black, anyway?"

"As I recall, I was there for my engagement party," Lucius murmured, and Voldemort nodded. It didn't surprise Lucius that his Lord had forgotten Narcissa's maiden name, as he really took very little interest in her. She wasn't a Death Eater, only a supporter who spent most of her time either socialising in Paris or hiding herself away on long luxury breaks in the Malfoy family's ancestral château near the south coast of France. Frankly, Lucius didn't mind what she did, as when she was home, she hardly spent any time at all with him or Draco, preferring to consort with her sister Bellatrix.

"And yes, my Lord, you are quite right that Black Castle is in Derbyshire, but they do have other properties," Lucius continued. "I'm not exactly the greatest source of information on the Black family's wealth, but I do know that their London town house, where my engagement party was held, was decorated and laid out in the exact same way as the house that Potter described."

"Do you recall the address?" Voldemort asked, taking a sip of his brandy.

"Number twelve Grimmauld Place, my Lord," Lucius answered promptly.

HPLV

Upon hearing Lucius' news, Voldemort had summoned Bellatrix to his study and quizzed both her and Lucius on Grimmauld Place. As Bellatrix knew the house better than Lucius, she was able to answer more than enough questions to assure Voldemort that they had found the Order Headquarters at long last.

This left Voldemort with a bit of a dilemma. He wanted to attack them as soon as possible, after the battle on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, the Order would be weak and easier to crush. However, Lupin and Black would still be in the Headquarters, and Voldemort did not want to attack while they were there. It was a simple case of self-preservation: Fenrir Greyback would not want his heir killed by accident, just because Voldemort was too impatient to wait for the younger werewolf to receive an owl. And Fenrir was close, suspiciously close, to Vesper and Harry. While Voldemort did not want his chances of having Harry to be destroyed, he also did not want Vesper and his friends and colleagues on the Vampire Council, as well as the whole of the Greyback Pack turning on him over two measly lives and a few days.

However, in those few days, Dumbledore and his Order would be regaining their strength and their hold on the Wizarding world, which would make them just as dangerous to face than ever. But faced with a choice between them and an army of pissed off vampires and werewolves, or waiting for the post to arrive, Voldemort knew what he had to do.

If there was one thing Lord Voldemort was good at, it was waiting.

To satisfy his curiosity over his possible new recruits, he summoned a House Elf to the study, and told her to go and fetch Greyback from Harry's room. He knew this would annoy the werewolf, but he, Vesper and Harry would have plenty time for post-rescue bonding later.

Sure enough, when Greyback arrived it was with a barely disguised frown in the Dark Lord's direction. He did take the seat and the drink that were offered to him, however, and only glanced back at the door once. Voldemort decided to get straight to the point.

"I was wondering if you could send a letter for me," he said. Fenrir glanced sideways at Bellatrix, who was looking curious at her Lord's request, and decided to be as discreet as he could manage. He had originally intended to be snappish with Voldemort, but he did not trust Mrs Lestrange in the slightest, especially with the task of not making a scene.

"Sure," he answered casually. Beside him, Bellatrix stiffened, drawing in a sharp breath.

"How dare you address our Lord as if he were your equal?" she demanded, rounding on him.

"Because I'm fucking someone who's his superior and he wants to be in a similar position with my step-son," Fenrir snapped back.

Rather than hex him or murder him, as Lucius was half expecting, Voldemort actually chuckled softly.

"You may leave us Bellatrix," he said, although his tone of voice implied that the suggestion was in fact, an order. The woman growled in irritation and stalked out of the room, shooting Fenrir a poisonous look as she did so.

"You shouldn't have told her that," Voldemort told the werewolf lightly. "She is rather…obsessive over me. You may have put your "step-son", and I'm assuming you mean Harry, at risk."

"He's more than capable of ridding the world of that sycophantic bitch," Fenrir said, shrugging slightly. "So, what are you going to do about the Order? I assume that you've identified their location, otherwise I'd not be here and you wouldn't be asking about letters."

"Of course," Voldemort replied, taking the change in topic in stride. "I was wondering when would be the right moment to attack."

"Three days from now, I should think," Fenrir decided. "That should give Remus and his mate plenty of time to get out of Order Headquarters. If they doesn't get out, then it's their own problem."

"You'd risk your heir at a time like this?" Lucius asked.

"I could always turn another, you know," Fenrir told him, frowning slightly at the blonde wizard. "I picked Remus to be my heir because he's the most intelligent, and the only one still alive, but there are always other possibilities."

"Potter?" Lucius asked.

"No," Fenrir sighed. "Werewolf saliva doesn't affect people who have drunk vampire blood, you know. We're too different to create hybrids through both infection and sex; it's a fact of life. He does have one of my hairs in his wand though, and that's as close as he'll ever get to being a werewolf."

"Hmm…now back onto the subject at hand," Voldemort interrupted, stopping any pursuit of vampire and werewolf breeding habits and setbacks. "We need to stop the Order from regaining their strength. Lucius, I want you to start advertising the fact that the Order of the Phoenix is a vigilante group. You know fine well that the Ministry has condemned any member of such an organisation as a criminal in an effort to prevent people from joining us, and that the Ministry is desperate to show that it is doing something…"

"Try and get them to arrest known Order members, my Lord?" Lucius asked.

"Exactly, not only will it be a blow to their forces, but it will also weaken their trust in Dumbledore if he cannot protect them from the very people they are supposed to be fighting for."

"And what if the Ministry refuses to cooperate?" Lucius asked.

"Then it will still make them doubt."

"I shall get onto this right away, my Lord," Lucius said, bowing slightly.

"You are excused."

Voldemort and Fenrir sat in silence for a few moments before the werewolf spoke up. He kept his voice quiet and even, but that seemed to make it all the more threatening.

"He may not be one of my wolves, but Harry is still Pack," he said. "And that means that I will protect him, no matter what. I may be one of your Death Eaters but that will not stop me from killing you if you harm a single hair on his head."

"Vesper was far more dramatic you know," Voldemort said, shrugging the threat off lightly. "When we first agreed on the courtship, he threatened to crucify me if I hurt Harry in any way. Strange hobby to pass on to your son isn't it."

Fenrir laughed.

HPLV

(The following day)

Harry had never been the type to laze around all day, and he was not about to start doing so now. So he had been comatose for two days, and then told of his possible future engagement to the Dark Lord, that didn't mean he had an excuse to wallow in self pity, or pretend that he was worse off than he really was. He was still alive, after all.

Still, Harry hadn't been expecting Voldemort to move so quickly, but, it appeared, the Dark Lord was more than willing to use all the spare time he had to get their relationship up off the ground. As it was, he found himself spending his first afternoon out of bed since his rescue, arm in arm with a man who had previously wanted to kill him, strolling around the manor's Poison Garden. It was, to say the least, surreal.

"Were you able to get anything from the information I gave you?" Harry asked. "I know it wasn't much, but…"

"It was enough," Voldemort finished, glancing down at him with a gentle smile on his lips. "We are attacking the Order Headquarters the day after tomorrow."

"Good," Harry said. "I'm glad I was able to help."

They paused by the water feature in the middle of the garden. It was more of an ornamental stream than anything and along its banks grew vibrantly purple lilies with dark green leaves, and foxgloves. It was rather pretty, and Harry focused on it for a moment rather than the Dark Lord by his side so that he could gather his thoughts.

"Lord Voldemort?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Voldemort replied, looking down at Harry again. The boy was staring at the nearest foxglove as it swayed in the light breeze, as though he was hypnotised by the flower's movement. He looked…pretty today, lost in thought, with his long hair tied back in a loose braid, strands of it falling about his face. Voldemort forced himself to concentrate on the teenager's words rather than his appearance.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Courting me, I mean. I'm not complaining or anything, it's just – it just doesn't strike me as something a Dark Lord would do. Is it because you're afraid of Pater and Fenrir, or are you doing this because you want to?"

He looked up at Voldemort then, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"I don't deny that Vesper and Greyback are forces to be reckoned with," Voldemort said after a moment's thought. "In fact, they have both threatened to kill me if I harm you in any way, but that isn't why I am doing this.

"Even Dark Lords get lonely sometimes, Harry, and when the only people around you who don't bow and scrape and try to think of ways to get on the good sides of both you and the Ministry, if they get caught, are a politics obsessed Veela, a werewolf with a bizarre sense of humour and a penchant for children, and a vampire who's, well, Vesper."

"Yes," Harry murmured, smiling softly. "There aren't really all that many adjectives suitable for Pater. But that doesn't explain what it is that you want from me."

"Companionship, loyalty, decent conversation…" Voldemort listed. "And of course the more political bonus of being able to say "I've got Potter" next time I see Dumbledore and mean it.

"There is of course, a possibility of a romantic relationship if you are willing."

"A possibility?" Harry asked.

"Well considering that the pretty Cockney brat who worked behind the counter of the most dubious apothecary in England turned out to be a very well spoken, yet no less pretty, Harry Potter a few days ago, I'd say that we should probably find out more about each other before considering what I think your dear father is hoping for."

Harry laughed, and leaned into Voldemort slightly. The Dark Lord responded by wrapping his arm around Harry's waist. The two moved on from the fake stream and continued to explore the garden.

From a second floor window, Jericho Vesper watched the couple as they walked together. That was until a pillow hit him in the small of his back. He turned to see Fenrir glaring at him.

"For the love of God, Jericho, get your arse back to bed now, and give those two some privacy," the werewolf growled.

"Aw, poor puppy," Jericho replied, his voice tinged with amusement. He sauntered back to where Fenrir lay and allowed the werewolf to pull him down onto the bed, and on top of his lover. "You know, it's still private if they don't know I'm watching."

"Shut up and stop trying to find loopholes in everything," Fenrir ordered, before making sure Jericho shut up by pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own Jericho Vesper, not Harry Potter, and I like it that way.

AN: I haven't updated so quickly in ages, but this is what happens when I have spare time. Better yet, this chapter is long, so enjoy it. Oh, as for the vampire mythology in this chapter...I made it up. Call it artistic liscence, but I think it fits in with the rest of the Fic.

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 11

It took Polyjuice Potion, glamours and vampire magic to disguise them thoroughly, but as Lord Voldemort stood outside of number twelve Grimmauld Place with Vesper, Greyback, Lucius and Bellatrix at his side, he couldn't help but think that it was worth the effort in its own special way. Here they were, right outside the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and no one inside could tell. However, they couldn't really tell much from outside either.

"The Fidelius Charm," Voldemort groaned. "I should have known."

"Is there a way to get past it, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, her dark eyes fixed unwaveringly on the Dark Lord.

"Of course, nothing is entirely foolproof," Voldemort said. "However, what we need to be able to attack is an invitation in from someone who is being protected by the charm."

"How will that work?" she asked.

"Although we know of the house's existence and what it is used for, we need an invitation to be able to see the people inside," he explained. "Otherwise, we would be invading what appears to be an empty house, while letting an invisible enemy catch us unawares."

"Catch you unawares," Jericho corrected. Voldemort looked at him.

"The charm does not work on vampires?" Voldemort asked, raising an eyebrow. Jericho shook his head. "Good," Voldemort continued. "You can help us get in."

"Me and my big mouth," Jericho groaned. Fenrir patted his back consolingly.

HPLV

That night, a small bat flitted around the Order Headquarters looking for a way in. The myth about vampires not being able to enter a place without invitation was just that, a myth. It was thought up by Muggles in the Dark Ages to explain why vampires couldn't get past vampire repellent charms that were placed over their houses by local wizards. A family as Dark as the Blacks wouldn't have them up – Bellatrix had confirmed this after a few questions had revealed some vampires in her family tree – so as long as there was an open window somewhere, the little bat would be able to enter.

That did not mean, however, that he was not annoyed with all this. Jericho had protested his appointment to this task by stating that he had no experience in breaking and entering, and that he wasn't even one of the Death Eaters, merely a supporter. Voldemort had waved him off, and Harry had convinced him to do it. Jericho was beginning to see how much of a mistake he had made when he had set those two up.

'Devious bastards,' he thought to himself as he flitted past the bathroom window on the third floor. 'At least they're well matched in getting me to do things I don't want to. Bastards.'

Another reason why he hated this idea was because it resulted in him having to take his bat form: a rather cute noctule bat. Contrary to popular belief, vampires do not turn into vampire bats, or at least, the ones that weren't from America didn't. Instead, they took the form of a bat native to their home country, meaning that for the time being, Jericho Vesper, one of the most feared vampires in the world, was masquerading as a flying, insect eating fuzz ball.

He gave an irritated squeak and flew up to the fourth floor, where at long last, he found what he was looking for.

He landed on the windowsill and smelt the air, using echolocation to map the room out. It was messy, with two single beds, although only one of them was being used, two trunks that were overflowing with clothes and school supplies. The room stank of sweat and sex, which was probably why the window was open in the first place, and a muddle of human emotions that Jericho couldn't identify.

As the door to the room was currently shut, all Jericho could do was wait for someone to enter the room. Then, the second part of the plan could be brought into action.

HPLV

It was harder than Fred had thought it would be, to sit through the dinner to welcome Ron and Ginny home from the hospital, and not think that switching sides was wrong. Their family was so happy, so relieved, that it hurt to think that in a few months, they might lose all of this. He knew that his twin was thinking the exact same thing, and regretted not being able to pull George into his arms and tell him it would be alright, that they would survive, and that they would get through this.

Neither of their younger siblings said anything about what had happened on the train, only that they had already told Dumbledore and the Aurors from the Ministry everything that they knew. There had been a shadow behind their eyes when they had spoken, and Fred knew that neither of them would ever be the same again. Ron especially. In just a few blood-drenched seconds, their younger brother had lost his best friend and girlfriend, Hermione Granger, and had been crucified. He had lost all feeling in two of his fingers on his right hand, and one finger on his left. The nerves could not be repaired, not even with magic.

Fred stifled a sigh and twirled his fork in his spaghetti, thinking his choices through once more. He had to admit that there was a lot he didn't agree with on the Dark side, but there were also things he didn't agree with on the Light. He agreed with a lot of Voldemort's ideas, and simple self-preservation dictated that if he wanted to live, then Dark was the way to go, but his family…

At least he would always have George with him. That had to count for something at least.

As soon as dinner was over, the Weasley twins excused themselves, hurrying back up to their bedroom under the pretence of plotting and thinking up pranks for when they did eventually go back to Hogwarts. That was a sure fire way to get the rest of the Order members to avoid their company for a few days, at least.

HPLV

Jericho looked up from his place hidden behind the curtains when he heard the door to the room he was in opening. Poking his head out, he gave a few blasts of echolocation to see what had disturbed him. The answer, to his joy, was two teenage boys. Finally, he could get going and bring the Order down.

Using a tiny bit of his magic, he activated a charm fastened around his neck that would send a signal to the Death Eaters back at Voldemort's base that would tell them to Apparate to Grimmauld Place and prepare for attack. Then, he crawled to the edge of the windowsill and, silently cursing Voldemort in several languages, fell off.

It didn't take long for the two boys to react to the soft 'fwump' that Jericho had made when he fell into a pile of – thankfully clean – socks beneath their window, and they came to investigate, wands drawn. Jericho squeaked slightly when gentle hands picked him up and lifted him to head height.

'If you drop me, then I will kill you,' he thought. 'Slowly and painfully, and very tidily, because that would probably annoy you.'

"It's a bat," the boy stated.

'Oh well done,' Jericho thought nastily.

"What's a bat doing in here?" the other boy asked.

'Planning to take over your minds so that you will let Death Eaters in to the house,' Jericho growled mentally as he prepared his magic.

"He probably got in through the window," the boy who was holding the bat said. He petted Jericho's soft fur gently, earning himself an indignant squeak.

The two boys froze when Jericho entered their minds, which was the normal reaction to such an invasion. He searched around a bit, curious as to who he was controlling and what they were like. It was unnecessary, but the better he could imitate them, then the less likely the Order were to notice that something was wrong with them. What he found was very interesting. The boys were planning on joining Voldemort as soon as they could, but they were having doubts over the whole, torture and killing aspect of Death Eater life. They weren't the only ones, Lucius Malfoy, for example, wasn't exactly a fan.

This information changed Jericho's mind about what he was going to do.

'Bugger it all,' he thought. 'If the Dark Lord wants me to spend two hours as a bat, and suffer the indignity of falling into piles of socks and being petted, then I can inflict the Weasley twins on him.'

"_Put me down on the spare bed,_" he ordered, and the boy who was holding him – George – complied. Once there, he released them from his control and turned into his usual, humanoid form. The twins stared at him in shock.

"Shout and I'll kill you," Jericho said, and the two boys nodded.

"Who are you?" the boy who hadn't held him – Fred – asked.

"My name is Jericho Vesper, and I am a vampire," Jericho told them.

"Potter's father," the said in unison, and he nodded.

"That's right. Now, to business, I want you to help me get my revenge on this forsaken Order, and I am prepared to use unpleasant means to get that help. Now, I'd rather you did this consensually, but the hard way is also an option."

"What do we have to do?" George asked curiously.

"Oh, you just have to open the front door and invite an army of Death Eaters into the house," Jericho said, waving a hand carelessly. "That means that they can get past the Fidelius Charm and bring the Order of the Phoenix to its knees, in case you were wondering."

"What about our family?" Fred asked, his eyes were narrowed slightly, and Jericho could tell that the boy was thinking about it.

"The Death Eaters have been ordered to take prisoners," he said. "Your family will live."

The twins exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between them.

"We'll do it," they said.

HPLV

Voldemort's headquarters were brought to a stand still when a piercing whistle echoed through the halls. As soon as it faded, the Death Eaters rushed to assemble in the entrance hall so they could Apparate safely to their destination.

Harry, who had been sitting with Voldemort in the comfort of the library, smiled encouragingly at the Dark Lord and stood up with him.

"You're looking forward to this," he stated.

"Of course," Voldemort admitted. "It's been a long time in coming."

"Good luck," Harry said as he stood up on his tip-toes and pressed a gentle kiss to Voldemort's pale cheek. Voldemort looked at him in surprise when he pulled away, and Harry grinned at him unrepentantly. Voldemort reached out and cupped Harry's face in his hand, before leaning down and kissing the boy full on the lips. Harry kissed back passionately, but broke away from the kiss a few seconds later.

"Go," he told Voldemort. "I'll be here reading when you get back. Dante's journey into hell is rather apt, wouldn't you think?"

"Yes," Voldemort admitted. "It would be. I'll see you soon, Harry. Don't wait up too long, or Vesper will kill me."

"Goodbye!" Harry called as Voldemort shut the door to the library and set off down the corridor, his blood red robe billowing out behind him.

Just minutes later, several loud cracks announced that the Death Eaters had left the building. Harry smiled as he read, he knew Voldemort would be alright, and he was looking forward to seeing him when he got back. With a sudden frown, he shook his head free of his thoughts and returned his attention to his book.

"I don't care about how good he is at kissing; I'm not going to turn into a bloody girl!" he said aloud.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Jericho, so don't sue me. And besides, you wouldn't get much. Trust me, I _know_ my bank balance.

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 12

When Voldemort arrived in Grimmauld Place, the night was still and quiet. He stood surrounded by his Death Eaters, waiting for the door to open. His attention was caught, however, by Fenrir Greyback, who was standing beside him, sniffing the air. He nudged the werewolf in the side with his elbow and nodded when Fenrir shot him a quizzical look.

"Come out Remus, and bring your mutt with you," Fenrir said softly, but his voice obviously reached Lupin's sharp ears, because he stepped out from the shadows by the Order Headquarters, Sirius Black by his side.

"Hello Fenrir," the younger werewolf greeted evenly. "Welcome to Grimmauld Place. It's been a while."

"It has," Fenrir admitted. Voldemort gave an impatient huff under his breath.

"Come here and be quiet," he snapped at them, and they obeyed after a quick glance at Fenrir. Black gave Voldemort a mutinous look, but lowered his gaze when it was met with Voldemort's angry red gaze.

Voldemort summoned a piece of gravel from number eleven's front garden and tapped it with his wand, whispering "portus". He then turned to face his latest recruits.

"This Portkey will take you to the library in my current base," he told them. "You will find Harry there reading. While his greeting may not be exactly friendly, it will be a lot better than what I will do to you if you stay here and get in our way."

Lupin and Black exchanged looks before they reached out for the small piece of stone. A couple of seconds later, they were gone.

HPLV

To give the boys credit, they were being very gentle with the bat as they carried him down the stairs, and they were being very quiet. However, Jericho was greatly looking forward to having two feet on the ground once more. He couldn't help but feel insecure in his current form with its tiny body, delicate wings and fragile bones; even though he knew that any damage done to him when he was like this wouldn't be permanent. He would admit to paranoia, but he would also admit that being squashed by one of the Weasley twins was not on his To Do list.

But life was such that the operation was not going to finish as smoothly as it had begun. The twins were on the second landing when a head poked out from behind a door. It was the youngest Weasley boy, Ron, and he had a very suspicious look on his face.

"What are you two up to now?" he asked suspiciously.

"A good deed," George said, editing the truth.

"We found this bat in our bedroom," Fred continued, pointing at Jericho, who was cradled in George's hands, trying his hardest to behave like a bat.

"And we're going to hang him up in the porch so that he can fly away home," George added.

"Before Snape finds him and uses him as a Potions ingredient," Fred finished.

Jericho suppressed a shudder at the very thought, although he did wonder at the name. Snape…he was a Death Eater, so what he thought he was doing wandering around the Order Headquarters, Jericho wasn't sure, but he decided to tell Voldemort about it after he regained his ability to talk. Before that happened though, he was tempted to bite the Dark Lord for making him go through all this.

Ron Weasley was peering down at him in curiosity.

"Are you sure he's a bat?" he asked.

Jericho stared at the boy in disbelief, while the twins fell about laughing. Ron, however, drew himself up defensively.

"Well look at it, isn't its fur a bit too light? Couldn't it be an animagus?"

"Maybe, Ron," Fred admitted. "But no one knows where this house is other than Order members, and why would they want to snoop around our room while disguised as a bat?"

"I dunno…" Ron trailed off.

"Look," George said. "We're going to put him outside before he gets even more scared, so he can go and do whatever it is bats do in their spare time. We can't keep him here, although seeing him go up against the doxies could be interesting… He needs to be free, and we don't need a fuzzy voyeur."

Ron grimaced as he was reminded of his brothers' 'special' relationship. He was the only one in their family who knew that the twins were also a couple, and although he didn't mind, he would rather that they didn't flaunt it. His quiet acceptance of their relationship was another thing that made them second guess their political allegiances.

"Go on then," Ron said. "It's about time you did something for others, even if this is for a bat."

He shut the door.

"Friendly," Fred commented. "Come on George, time to get mister bat outside."

When they got to the front door, they opened it to find a large group of Death Eaters standing in the street, Voldemort at their lead dressed in blood red robes that stood out dramatically against the sea of black behind him. George gulped nervously.

He bent down and gently placed Jericho on the ground. The bat shook himself vigorously before transforming back into his usual form. He looked down at the twins and gave them a reassuring smile. Fred nodded.

"Come in," the teen said.

HPLV

Sirius hated Portkeys, and the one Voldemort had given him was no different. He still felt dizzy and disorientated when it was over, although he had to admit that his Godson's reaction did not help.

As soon as he and Remus had arrived in the Dark Lord's hideout, in a room that they knew was the library, Harry had whipped out his wand and hexed them so that they hung from the ceiling by their feet. It was extremely disorientating, and the blood rushing to his head was making Sirius feel ill.

Harry was standing in front of them, his wand pointed straight at them.

"How did you get here?" the boy demanded.

"Voldemort gave us a Port Key," Sirius said hurriedly. "We've switched sides."

"He didn't tell me that," Harry said, tilting his head to one side. "Neither did father or Fenrir, and they would have known. This deserves an act of revenge on my part. I don't like surprises unless I'm the one giving them."

With a wave of his wand, Sirius and Remus dropped to the floor. Harry turned away from them and crossed over to where he had been sitting and picked up his book.

"You can sit, you know," he said after a moment's silence. "I don't bite, I'm just not feeling very sociable right now. I'll get your reasons for defecting after I've got rid of the urge to maim things."

"You can tell Fenrir had a hand in his upbringing," Remus muttered.

HPLV

The Death Eaters were silent as they filtered in to the house. Jericho had led the twins outside and had told him that he would return to collect them later. They were to hide, be quiet and not do anything foolish that would amount to their death or either of them being hurt. His reasoning was that Voldemort would _pay_ for making him take bat form.

After that minor detour, he joined the Death Eaters, and more specifically Voldemort himself, in the searching of the house. Jericho was looking for the same person as Voldemort: Dumbledore. With Fenrir and the Dark Lord at his side he moved silently through the headquarters before stopping. Fenrir's eyes were fixed on a closed door and he was growling softly.

Giving Voldemort a brief nod, Jericho faded into the shadows and vanished from sight. Voldemort opened the door.

Fenrir had been right, Dumbledore was in there. He sat calmly in a chintz chair, his wand in his hand and a benevolent twinkle in his eye. A small smile tugged at his lips as Voldemort stepped over the threshold, followed closely by Fenrir.

"So you found us Tom," Dumbledore said softly. "I wondered if you would."

"You didn't realise how many Blacks I had on my side," Voldemort said. "Actually, this whole operation has been incredibly dull and condescendingly easy. You're either continuing to underestimate me, or you've got something up your sleeve…speaking of which, purple and orange clash horribly."

"I have never underestimated you, Tom," Dumbledore murmured as he raised his wand. "I was the only one, if you will recall, you suspected you were capable of opening the Chamber of Secrets."

"And yet you're still foolish enough to think that I would come in here with only Fenrir as backup," Voldemort countered as Jericho reappeared next to Dumbledore. With a blurred movement, the vampire had snapped Dumbledore's wrist and claimed the old wizard's wand.

"The vampire," Dumbledore hissed through gritted teeth, the tightening around his eyes was the only outward sign he gave of being in pain. "We meet at last."

"I'd say it was a pleasure, but I don't believe that it is," Jericho greeted mildly. "For one thing, our dearest Dark Lord's ego is preventing me from breaking more than your wrist."

"Who are you?" Dumbledore demanded.

"My real name probably doesn't mean much to you," Jericho sighed. "After all, Muggles pay so little attention to Muggle history. I was, in life, Lucius Valerius Flaccus, a Roman consul in BCE 195. You'd probably know me better as Jericho Vesper, the adopted father of Harry Potter.

"It was me on the Platform, and it was me who gave him vampire blood as a child. But then, it was also me who saved his life when he was little more than a year old. Inops puer… He'd just been orphaned when he was left out to die in an alleyway, dumped amongst the rubbish."** 1**

"I left him with his family," Dumbledore said.

"They clearly didn't want him," Jericho spat.

"We are his family now," Fenrir said.

"And if you ever come near him again, then I won't stop Vesper from killing you," Voldemort added. Jericho grinned, letting his fangs lengthen slowly. Dumbledore shivered.

The three of them turned to leave when Dumbledore stopped them.

"Aren't you in the least bit curious about the prophecy, Tom?" Dumbledore asked. "It is why you went after Harry in the first place."

"Not anymore," Voldemort said softly. "I have something far more valuable than the full prophecy now, I have Harry himself. And besides, are you really sure that it means what you think it means?"

"And what do you mean by that?" Dumbledore asked coolly, his eyes were narrowed, and Voldemort smiled at his ex-teacher.

"There is a very big difference between living and surviving, Dumbledore," he said softly. "And maybe the destruction of the Dark Lord will be a good thing. After all, that means that the world will be at peace once more."

"You are the Dark Lord," Dumbledore pointed out.

"I am," Voldemort admitted. "But I am also Tom Marvolo Riddle, and there is nothing that says that he has to die." **2**

And with that, they were gone, the broken pieces of Dumbledore's wand falling to the floor as they disapparated. Dumbledore shook as he sat in his chair. He had been preparing for a duel, but Voldemort hadn't needed to kill him to win.

When the sun rose on Grimmauld Place, Albus Dumbledore sat alone in his headquarters. The Phoenix, once beautiful and strong, had crumbled into ashes at last.

**1 For the full story, see Dark Side Stories.**

**2 Well, okay, I was searching for a new interpretation to the prophecy, and this is what I came up with. It works though, and I'm actually quite pleased with myself.**


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I only own Jericho.

AN: Thanks to all my reviewers for the last few chapters. Your support, comments and constructive criticism all mean a lot to me. I love reading your reviews, and replying to them, so please take a few seconds to review.

I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 13

"Ron! Ron! Wake up! Please!"

The boy in question could hear the familiar voice as if from a great distance. It was Ginny, his little sister. As soon as he realised who it was, Ron began to fight for consciousness, knowing that his little sister needed him.

Coming round, he realised that he was not lying on his bed as he had been before, but a cold stone floor. His eyes fluttered open slowly and he blinked a few times to clear his vision. Ginny was leaning over him looking terrified. Her ginger hair was in total disarray and she was dressed only in her pyjamas. There was a cut on her cheek, and some of the blood had mingled with her earlier tears and ran down her face.

"Where are we?" Ron asked softly.

"I don't know," Ginny admitted. "Mum and Dad are here too, though. Everyone is, but we've all been separated. We've been caught. The Death Eaters must have found us, Ron."

"But how?" Ron asked. "The Fidelius Charm was on the house, wasn't it? Someone would have had to invite the Death Eaters in… It must have been Snape, the evil bastard. It's just the sort of thing he would do, betray us like this."

Ginny shrugged slightly. She was shivering so Ron sat up and wrapped his arms around her. Ginny cuddled against him, turning her face so that it was hidden in his chest.

"I'm scared, Ron," she whispered. "I'm really, really scared. What's going to happen to us?"

"I don't know," Ron replied, shaking his head sadly and gripping her tightly. "I don't know."

HPLV

Harry looked up when the door to the library opened. Sirius and Remus looked up as well, just in time to see Lord Voldemort enter the room, followed by Jericho, Fenrir and, surprisingly, the Weasley twins. Harry blinked.

"Fred? George?" he asked, staring at them in disbelief.

"That's us," Fred said.

"We've switched sides," George explained.

"With a little help from your father, of course."

"He makes a cute bat," George pointed out. Jericho glared at him.

Harry, however, burst out laughing, receiving annoyed looks from both Voldemort and Jericho and confused loos from everyone else.

"I was planning to get revenge for you surprising me with these two," Harry explained to Voldemort between giggles, indicating Sirius and Remus. "But now you have _them_ to deal with so I won't bother."

"Thank you so much, Harry," Voldemort muttered tiredly.

"You, however," Harry said seriously, rounding on Jericho. "You do not escape. You should have told me, Pater."

"I know, I know," Jericho sighed. "But doesn't spending time as a flying mouse count as punishment?"

Harry smiled and shook his head. Jericho winced and sighed.

"Just make sure Fenrir gets it as well, brat," he said. "He doesn't have an excuse either. Now, off to bed with you. You shouldn't be up this late."

Harry glared at him, before walking over to the vampire. He pressed a chaste kiss to his adopted father's lips, and did the same to Fenrir. Harry glanced up at Voldemort as he passed the Dark Lord and blushed at the memory of their earlier kiss. Voldemort smiled down at him as he took Harry's hand in his own and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Harry's blush deepened, and he turned to leave.

"Goodnight," he called, giving them a wave.

Too late, Jericho noticed the wand hidden up his son's sleeve and felt magic wash over him.

Jericho the bat glared up at his son as the teenager left the room.

"Damn, he's good," Fred remarked.

HPLV

Alastor Moody was a man with a highly tuned body clock. He always awoke at six in the morning, and went to sleep at eleven at night. It was a routine that had gone on for years, and he always did his best to stick to it.

That was how he knew, when he came round that he had been in captivity for eight hours – the longest time ever, if he discounted Barty Crouch Jr. As he looked around his cell with his magical eye, he checked himself for any of his hidden wands. They had all been removed.

Cursing softly, he realised that Voldemort's followers weren't quite as incompetent as he had believed they were. The times he had come up against them in battle during Voldemort's second reign, they had shown signs of improving their skills, but Moody had been an Auror for years, longer than most of the Death Eaters had been alive. Clearly Voldemort was becoming more careful.

So, sitting in his cell with no means of escape, Moody turned his thoughts to the night before. He had been with Albus in the library when the older wizard had told him to go home, that there was no need for him to be at the Headquarters that night. And in truth, his presence hadn't mattered in the slightest; he had been caught, along with the rest of the Order.

Voldemort had found a way past the Fidelius Charm obviously, and that was a surprise. Although, considering the amount of sad pride that he heard in Dumbledore's voice every time Tom Riddle was brought up in conversation, he shouldn't have been too surprised. Voldemort had been a genius while he was at school, and there was no reason why that fact should have changed over time. If anyone could have found a way past the spell, it would have been him.

Moody was broken from his thoughts at the sound of footsteps. He looked up when those steps paused outside of his cell door and stared at the small, slender figure in surprise.

"Alastor Moody," Harry Potter said calmly. "I'm surprised that they left you alive."

"Potter!" Alastor gasped. "You're here? And alive? Why hasn't Voldemort killed you yet?"

"I'm more valuable to him alive," Harry stated, shrugging slightly. "He's really quite into political alliances, you know. If he killed me then he would lose support from both the vampires and the werewolves, so he's marrying me instead."

"Marrying?"

"He's quite the desirable asset," a cool voice said, and Alastor's eyes flicked to the figure that had seemingly appeared next to the Boy Who Lived. It was Voldemort himself, tall and dark haired, wearing robes of the darkest green. He smirked as he looked down at Alastor, sitting in his cell.

"Do you want to know, Mad-Eye, how the Order fell?" he asked evenly. Moody nodded, and Voldemort smiled.

"Traitors," he breathed. "You had people willing to betray you in your midst, and they did so willingly once they were given the chance. It was foolish to take Harry into your stronghold, you know. He has an uncanny ability to change peoples' minds without the use of magic.

"The Fidelius Charm can be overruled when the people it protects invite the enemy in."

"Snape," Moody whispered.

"No, not Severus," Voldemort said evenly. "Although I will admit, you were right to suspect him. He is mine, and he always has been. If you must know, it was Fred and George Weasley."

"No!" Alastor denied. "It can't have been."

Voldemort's smile grew wider. He turned slightly to look down at Harry, who was watching Alastor with something akin to pity in his eyes.

"Would you like to do the honours?" he asked softly.

If Alastor hadn't known any better, he could have sworn that the man in front of him was not Voldemort. He spoke so gently to the boy, with such affection in his eyes that he was practically another person entirely. The old Auror realised that what he was seeing was a glimpse of the real person who hid behind the name of Lord Voldemort and all the terror that came with it.

"No," Potter said. "I don't really enjoy that sort of thing. I only kill when I have to. And besides, he's been your enemy for so much longer than he's been mine."

"Fair enough," Voldemort shrugged. He turned his attention back to Moody, who sat calmly awaiting his fate. "You've been a worthy adversary, Moody, and a pain in my side for far too long. Any last words?"

"Rot in hell, you bastard," Moody said. "You can kill me, but you'll never win against the side of Light."

"He already has," Harry said softly, and then he turned away, burying his face in the robes of the Dark Lord as Voldemort raised his wand.

"Diffindo."

Alastor Moody lay back to stare at the ceiling as blood gushed from the cut in his neck. Voldemort had gone for the vein, rather than the artery, and so he had a little while yet to live. In the last few seconds before he died, he smiled.

'I've never heard of Voldemort killing someone like this,' he thought.

HPLV

Harry was silent as he walked back up the stairs and out of the dungeons at Voldemort's side. The old Auror had been intelligent, if terrifyingly obsessed with finding and killing Dark wizards, and he had been one of the Light's greatest supporters.

Harry leant against Voldemort's side and grinned slightly. He was happy that Moody was gone, but he was also glad that Voldemort had granted him a relatively peaceful death with no use of the Cruciatus Curse. He supposed that was a mark of respect for the Dark Lord's fallen enemy. Fair enough, bleeding to death wasn't the most pleasant way to die, but it was a hell of a lot better than several other ways that Harry could think of.

"You know," he said after a while. "You could have just used the Killing Curse. I mean, it's going to take ages to clean the floor properly now it's got blood all over it."

"I'll have a minion do it," Voldemort said dismissively. "And I didn't want to use that curse in front of you."

"Why? It's not like I haven't seen it used before," Harry pointed out.

"It was how I killed your parents," Voldemort said after a slight pause. "And it's how I tried to kill you when you were a baby."

Harry blinked. That had been blunt to say the least. It was sweet in a macabre sort of way that Voldemort didn't want to use that curse around him, but it was also silly. Most cutesy, romantic things were silly in some way, but this really took the biscuit.

"I don't mind so long as you don't try and use it on me again," Harry said. "I'm not made out of glass, you know. The Order tried to treat me as such, and look where it got them. I won't break if you touch me, or kill someone in front of me in the same way as you did the Potters. That happened a long time ago, and things have changed since then."

"Yes, they have," Voldemort said softly. "You're an amazing person, Harry."

"You bet I am," Harry grinned. He stood on tiptoe and kissed Voldemort gently on the lips, only to find himself pulled flush against the Dark Lord's body as the older wizard kissed back.

He moaned softly as Voldemort gently pushed his tongue into his mouth and he clung to the front of the Dark Lord's robes. He could feel Voldemort's hand pressing into his lower back, strangely hot through his robes, and Harry raised one of his hands to caress Voldemort's cheek tenderly.

They broke apart at the sound of someone clearing their throat, and Harry turned around to come face to face with a bat, held in the hand of Fenrir. The werewolf was grinning at him, but the bat looked less than impressed.

"Hello Pater, Fenrir," Harry greeted, blushing furiously. "You want to be turned back?"

The bat gave a loud squeak in agreement, and Harry smiled.

"You won't ground me for forcing you to change?" he asked.

Jericho shook his head.

"You won't ground me for making out with the Dark Lord?"

Again, Jericho shook his head, albeit reluctantly. Harry pulled his wand out from up his sleeve and tapped Jericho on the head with it. A few seconds later, Jericho was standing next to Fenrir, and staring at Voldemort disapprovingly.

The Dark Lord promptly excused himself, and left after briefly squeezing Harry's hand.

"Oh don't look at him like he just killed your puppy, Pater," Harry reprimanded. "I initiated it."

Jericho looked slightly happier at that.

"And besides, isn't this what you wanted for me?" Harry continued. "I like him Pater. I did before, and I still do now."

"Good," Jericho said, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders. "You know I'm just worried about you."

"Yeah, I know," Harry admitted. Then he grinned wickedly. "I can't wait for the wedding night though. Did you know Voldemort has a forked tongue?"

And with that, he sauntered off down the corridor, heading towards the library. Fenrir and Jericho exchanged amused glances.

"That boy is…" Fenrir started.

"He was definitely raised in part by you," Jericho said. "You can tell. Your personality has rubbed off on him."

"Yep," Fenrir said proudly. "Are you complaining? Last time I checked, you were madly in love with me. Besides, Harry does have a point. It's your conspiring that got him in this place anyway."

"Don't remind me," Jericho groaned.

"Are you having regrets?"

"No," Jericho admitted. "Voldemort is right for Harry, I can tell. They adore each other. But seeing my son in a passionate embrace like that was slightly strange."

"Oh come on," Fenrir protested, rolling his eyes. "It's not like he hasn't walked in on us enough times."


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters mentioned in this story except Jericho.

AN: This took me a while to write, since I've been on holiday and then straight back to college. But it's finally here, so enjoy! Please remember to review when you've finished.

This might not be updated for a while because of my workload, but I promise that I will be working on it in my free time.

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 14

Arthur Weasley looked up as a Death Eater stopped in front of his cell door. The Death Eater was wearing his hooded cloak and mask, so Arthur couldn't tell who it was. He had seen many similarly dressed people over the past few days as they came to take away members of the Order. Those members never came back.

Arthur glared at the other man even though he knew it would do him no good. The Death Eater simply snorted and looked away from Arthur to Molly, who was cuddled into her husband's side, asleep. Her frantic worrying over her children since they had become captive had driven her to exhaustion.

"My business is not with you today, Arthur, but with _her_," a familiar voice murmured. It had been so long since Arthur had heard that voice do anything other than sneer that he almost didn't recognise it.

"Lucius Malfoy!" he gasped and the Death Eater nodded.

"Why Molly? What did she do to deserve your ire? It's me you hate, remember?" Arthur continued.

"She stole something from me," Lucius explained. "Ennervate."

At his spell, Molly awoke, blinking sleep from her eyes. Her gaze fell on her husband first and she took in the guilt-stricken look on his face. He refused to look at her, even when she called his name and shook his arm. Instead he looked up at the barred door to their prison. Molly followed his gaze and she gasped.

Lucius had removed his mask and hood, and the light from the tiny window in the cell fell on his pale hair and skin. He was gave Arthur one last sad look before he turned his gaze to her. It was filled with hate.

Molly smiled bitterly, remembering just why he felt that way about her, and she stood. Arthur didn't even try to stop her as she walked towards the man who would kill her. He opened the door to the cell and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her out roughly and closing the door. They glared at each other, before Lucius took her away. Before they rounded the corner, she glanced back towards her husband, only to find him watching her leave. But he wasn't watching her; instead, he was watching Malfoy.

'Damn you Arthur,' she thought to herself. 'You may have hid it, but you never stopped loving him.'

HPLV

"Vesper!"

Jericho paused, and turned to look at the Dark Lord who was crossing the grounds towards him. After his forced transformation, courtesy of Harry, he had had to sleep for a couple of days, but now that his energy was back to its usual levels, he could walk in daylight once more.

"Yes?" he asked, as soon as Voldemort joined him.

"A certain wolf told me something interesting," Voldemort said, and Jericho scowled.

"A certain wolf should learn to shut up on occasion," he replied. "Well? What did he say?"

"Greyback told me that we could be expecting visitors from the Vampire Council sometime soon."

"Well, you _have_ attracted their attention, you know," Jericho explained. "You ally yourself with me and the wolves, propose to my son, and defeat the Order, in the space of a few weeks. It's no small feat for a human.

"Also, you can expect then to question your engagement to Harry," he continued. "Harry is very popular with several of the Council members, as I told you before. They might object if they think that you are simply going to use him."

"Nothing with Harry is simple," Voldemort said. "He's too like you. He thinks in so many circles it's enough to make you dizzy…"

"I take that as a compliment," Jericho said coolly.

"You're beginning to regret allowing me to court him, aren't you," Voldemort stated. Jericho sighed, and tilted his head back to look at the sky while he thought about how to word his answer.

"I know that you are right for each other, and anyone that sees you together can see that your motives for pursuing him are not entirely political," he said eventually. "But he is still my son, and he is still only fifteen years old. I know that girls in my time were often younger than that when they married, but this is different. I still see Harry as being too young for this, despite knowing that he is not mentally a child anymore."

"You want to protect him," Voldemort murmured. "There's nothing that I can say to stop you from feeling that. You already have my word that I will not harm him, and I intend to keep it."

"I know," Jericho replied. "I'll just have to get over it I suppose."

"Thank you," Voldemort said, a soft smile twisting his lips. "Do try not to glare at me too much, by the way. It's unnerving, and it's worrying Harry."

He turned and walked away after receiving a short laugh and an agreement from Jericho. The vampire looked back up at the sky and sighed again.

"You're getting soft in your old age, Valerius," he told himself. "And you can't show that while _they_ are here. Get over yourself and stop acting like a human teenager. It's pathetic."

He continued his walk in silence.

HPLV

"This won't make him come back to you," Molly whispered hoarsely, after spitting blood up over the floor. She was recovering from the last Cruciatus Curse Lucius had shop at her, and she had just about enough energy left to speak and glare at him.

"Maybe not, but it will make me feel better," Lucius said as he lowered his wand once more.

"You're still jealous aren't you," she hissed. "Still jealous that I won, that I could give him the children he wanted and that you couldn't provide. You're still jealous that Arthur's parents refused to let you court him because you're nothing more than an animal."

"Did you miss the announcement?" Lucius sneered. "Veela are beings now."

"Only the Ministry was ten years too late to save your relationship with Arthur," Molly replied, mock pity tainting her voice.

"Crucio," Lucius said, cutting off anything further that she might have had to say.

Four hours later, Lucius returned to the dungeons, and he stopped in front of Arthur's cell once more. Arthur crossed to the bars and gripped them.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded.

"I killed her," Lucius said bluntly. He handed Arthur a gold ring through the bars of the door. "Do you really need the details?"

Arthur took the ring that he knew Molly would never willingly take off, and shook his head silently.

"I know that you won't forgive me," Lucius said quietly. "And I know that I'm far too late, but I do still love you."

Arthur nodded.

"I can try and get the Dark Lord to free you from this cell, if you wanted out," Lucius continued.

"Why would I want to live when my family will all die?" Arthur asked softly.

"Not all of them will," Lucius told him. "Your sons, Fred and George, defected. They have joined the Dark Side, though not the Death Eater ranks."

"Fred and George? But why?" Arthur asked, confusion written over his features.

"I don't know," Lucius replied. "Please think about my offer, Arthur. I don't think that I could watch you die."

He left again, leaving Arthur to his thoughts.

HPLV

"Pater…are you alright?" Harry asked softly.

He was curled in Jericho's lap while his father read and petted his hair gently. While they may have looked relaxed, Harry could feel the tension running through the vampire's muscles.

"I'm fine, little one," Jericho replied. "I'm just tired."

"You're worried about me," Harry pointed out. "And about something else too. I know I can't stop you from being overprotective of me, but you could at least tell me the other thing. I might be able to help."

Jericho smiled and kissed his son's forehead gently.

"Bella, Mircea and Adalwolf are coming here with their pets," Jericho told him. "They want to check that you are alright and that I haven't done anything stupid…"

"Like marry me off to a Dark Lord?" Harry suggested, and Jericho winced.

"Well, yes, actually," Jericho said. "And if they think that he's wrong for you then they might interfere."

"Adalwolf will be okay I think," Harry mused. "He likes me, and so does Mircea, come to think of it. You can deal with Bella though."

"I knew you were going to make me talk to her," Jericho growled as he tickled Harry's side, making his son shriek and squirm.

"I like making you uncomfortable," Harry said, grinning. "And with Bella, it's just amusing."

"I'm going to tell Fenrir that you find that woman's pawing humorous, you evil child," Jericho muttered.

"Oh go on then," Harry teased. "Threaten me with your boyfriend."

Jericho laughed and kissed Harry's forehead again.

"Look, Pater," Harry said. "There's nothing to worry about. I'll be fine, the Council members will be as cooperative as usual, and Voldemort's an okay guy when you get to know him. Just concentrate on being the hardass master vampire that you usually are, and let me convince the Council members that Voldemort's the man for me."

"Is he?" Jericho asked, genuinely curious.

"I think so," Harry replied. "I hope he is."


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I own Jericho, Adalwolf, Korbinian, Bella and Mircea. Everyone else belongs to J.K.Rowling.

AN: Here we go, the next chapter, and more members of the Vampire Council. Those of you who read Dark Side Stories will already have met Adalwolf, but for those who haven't, he is the Creepy Vampire Kid of Doom, and he freaks me out. You get to find out why in this chapter.

As soon as I had the last chapter finished with, I had the beginning of this in my head. The thing is with Adalwolf, he may be the CVKoD, but he makes me write things. I swear though, the OCs will not take over this story. I won't let them. Adalwolf will probably try though.

As for the chapter...it's pretty much a filler that sets up the next phase of the plot. Please read and review, and - hopefully - enjoy.

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 15

Three days later Harry woke up to the sound of a child's laugh. There was a strange weight on his bed, and he could feel that he was being watched. He allowed his eyes to flutter open slowly, and found himself looking straight into a familiar pair of large grey eyes, that although glittering with happiness and mischief at the moment, were weighted by the knowledge of centuries.

"Oh good," the childish voice of his best friend said. "You're awake. It took you five minutes of being stared at constantly, as well. You must feel safe here."

"Hello Adalwolf," Harry greeted, earning an impish smile from the child vampire. "How are you?"

"The same as always," Adalwolf replied, sitting down on Harry's lap and allowing the young wizard to sit up. "Things have been boring without you. Korbinian has had to work extra hard to keep me entertained."

Korbinian was Adalwolf's human servant, and the only one that Harry actually knew personally. When he was a small boy, Jericho had warned him to avoid being around the man on his own, but it wasn't until later that he had found out the reason why. Korbinian was a pederast.

He looked over at the man who stood in the corner and smiled. Now that he was too old for Korbinian's tastes, he didn't really mind the man, although he did find the idea that Adalwolf had deliberately made a man with that sort of sexual preference his human servant a little disturbing. He knew now that Adalwolf would never have let Korbinian near him, as the child vampire had promised his father that he would keep Harry safe, but Harry did wish that he had known that when he was younger.

"Hi Korbinian," he greeted, and the man nodded in acknowledgement. He returned his attention to Adalwolf, when the little vampire tugged on some of his hair.

Adalwolf had only been eight years old when he had been turned into one of the undead by a vampire in the Black Forest, and he was now stuck forever in the body of a child, even though his mind was that of an adult. He had dealt with the concept of never growing up remarkably well, if making a pederast an immortal lover counted as dealing with the situation well.

"Valerius said that you were getting married," Adalwolf said, using Jericho's real name like he usually did. "Is that true?"

Harry nodded, and Adalwolf wrinkled his nose slightly.

"He's with your fiancée now, by the way, along with Mircea and Bella," the child informed him. "Bella's probably picking on Voldemort for getting you involved in a Wizarding war, and Valerius and Mircea are probably finding the whole thing hysterically funny."

"I should probably rescue him then," Harry pointed out, but Adalwolf shook his head.

In a lightening fast movement, he had Harry pinned to the bed, an unholy light shining in his eyes. Harry couldn't move; Adalwolf's supernatural strength was far more than even Harry's enhanced abilities.

"Do you love him?" Adalwolf demanded. "Does he mean so much to you that you would go up against the Vampire Council to marry him?"

"I don't know!" Harry replied, having given up trying to dislodge the boy on top of him. "I care about him, and I think I might love him, but I don't know if I do yet. And as for the Council, well, only the European Councillors have any right to object since theirs is the territory involved, but it's still a Wizarding matter whether I marry Voldemort or not."

"You are a half-breed so you are part of our responsibility by default," Adalwolf reminded him.

"I want to marry him," Harry said stubbornly. Adalwolf smiled slightly at that, and pulled away, slipping off the bed and crossing over to Korbinian and taking the human's hand.

"Get dressed then," he said. "We need to rescue your lover."

Harry didn't bother to correct him on the use of the word as he grabbed his clothes and dashed into the bathroom to get dressed.

HPLV

Sirius Black sat on the sofa with his lover Remus Lupin and the werewolf Fenrir Greyback. Lucius Malfoy was sitting in an armchair watching the scene playing out between the Dark Lord and the vampires, but Sirius noticed that Malfoy would occasionally become lost in thought.

He didn't bother questioning it: as far as he was concerned, Malfoy had always been a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic, and so he had a right to be weird at times. Besides, watching a petite French woman admonish Voldemort for mixing Harry Potter up in his screwed up world was far more entertaining.

There was one thing that he was curious about though, he had heard from Remus, who had got it from Fenrir, who in turn had heard the news from Jericho, that three members of the Vampire Council were supposed to be visiting them, and so far, Sirius had only seen two.

The first was the French woman, who was dressed in a floor-length maroon gown, made from a rich brocade and had hems decorated with tiny seed pearls. They were embroidered onto her bodice as well. Judging from the way she dressed, she had to be at least three hundred years old.

Her dark hair was partially hidden under a little French hood that matched her dress, and her brown eyes were fixed on Voldemort, who looked like there were other places that he would much rather be.

When the woman had entered, she had instantly attached herself to Jericho, something which had made Fenrir growl, and had introduced herself as Isabelle Moreau. But they simply had to call her Bella.

From the look on Jericho's face as he had calmed Fenrir with a gentle touch and an amused smile, she usually acted like this and he was used to it.

The new male vampire had just rolled his eyes and said nothing. He hadn't said anything at all, now that Sirius thought about it, although he did look creepily familiar.

'He must be one of the better known vampires,' Sirius thought. 'Malfoy recognised him as well, if the look on his face was anything to go by.'

Bella's tirade was interrupted when the door opened, allowing Harry to enter the room. He was holding the hand of a little boy who looked as though he could have stepped out of a Medieval wood carving, or a Renaissance painting. The kid looked like a cherub.

Behind them was a thin man with light, coppery hair and blue eyes. Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his seat: that man had to be the third vampire. He gave Sirius the creeps.

"Shut up Bella, and leave Voldemort alone," Harry said by way of greeting, making the child giggle, and the eerily familiar vampire smirk.

"Harry…" Jericho said warningly, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"I know, I know, don't piss off the other Council members," he replied. "But honestly Pater, she could at least have given him a chance to defend himself. After all, attacking your host is an awfully rude thing to do. Hello Mircea."

The last was directed towards the silent vampire, whose shoulders were shaking with quiet laughter. From the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Malfoy relax. Apparently, he had thought this Mircea guy was someone else.

"Harry," the man purred. "It's good to see you again. I take it Adalwolf didn't scare you too much."

"Up until the point where he pinned me to the bed and interrogated me, no," Harry said evenly. "How are your brothers?"

"As much of a handful as they always were," Mircea said, shrugging slightly. "I long for the day that Radu will start acting like the prince he is supposed to be, but that will probably take another few centuries to arrive."

"Point out that Adalwolf is more grown up than him, and it might come quicker," Harry pointed out, and Mircea laughed.

Harry then turned to the rest of the room's occupants and offered them a shy smile before he began to talk again.

"This lot probably haven't introduced themselves yet, so I'll do it for them," he said. "The lovely lady behind me is Isabelle Moreau, onetime hand maiden to Anne Boleyn. The man is Mircea Dracula, the Prince of Walachia and older brother to Vlad and Radu. His little brother Vlad is better known, but Mircea is way more powerful. **1.**

"And this," he continued, indicating the child at his side, "is Adalwolf Holtzmann, the third of the Vampire Council members here today, and my best friend. No, I'm not joking on either account Sirius, so don't even ask. The man looming ominously in the doorway is Korbinian, Adalwolf's human servant."

Sirius shut his mouth with an audible snap. He had wondered if Harry was joking about the little kid being a Council member, but when Harry had spoken, Adalwolf had turned to look at him and their eyes had locked. In that moment, Sirius had felt a rush of sheer power crash over him, and he suddenly knew. This child was the second oldest vampire in the room, and he had more power in a fingertip than Sirius could ever hope to wield in his life.

Then, Adalwolf looked away, and Sirius was forced back into reality. Remus shot him a worried look and gripped his hand, while Sirius tried to regain control over his breathing.

When Sirius looked back up from his knees, he realised that he was still being watched; only this time, it was by Jericho. The ancient vampire's face was impassive, but Sirius thought he could see concern in his eyes. Sirius' gaze flicked to Adalwolf again to find the little vampire sitting on the lap of his human servant, their fingers entwined. Harry was curled up in an armchair between them and Voldemort, and he was patiently explaining that he actually wanted to wed the Dark Lord.

'This is fucking surreal,' Sirius thought as he squeezed Remus' fingers. 'If I hadn't already known that the world's gone mad, I would have thought that I'm going insane.'

HPLV

To say that Cornelius Fudge was not enjoying his job at that moment would be a massive understatement. Several of his best Aurors had gone missing, the body of Mad Eye Moody had been delivered to the Ministry by Port Key, completely drained of blood, and then Albus Dumbledore had been admitted to Saint Mungo's.

That was where Fudge was now, sitting by the old man's bed while he slept, and staring in shock at the wrinkled old face that he barely recognised. It wasn't as if he didn't know that Dumbledore was old, it was just that he'd never seen him looking so tired.

'He's finally been shown that he isn't indestructible,' Fudge thought, feeling slightly guilty for doing so.

Voldemort had won against Dumbledore, that much was true, but Fudge was determined not to give up without a fight. He knew fine well that the Dark Lord's next target would be the Ministry, and he knew that despite his followers' best efforts, morale was falling, but for Fudge, his own power was more important than anything else in the world.

He had to launch the next attack, but with the man whose advice he had always depended on the most lying in hospital, he didn't know who to turn to. He began to go through a list of people he trusted at the Ministry, automatically skipping those who were missing, incapacitated or dead.

He ended up with three people: Amelia Bones, Dolores Umbridge and Lucius Malfoy. **2.**

HPLV

Ron had given up yelling for someone to let them out, or bring food and water to him and his sister. His will was slowly breaking as his stomach throbbed with constant hunger and the stench of human excrement invaded his nostrils with every breath. He didn't know what had happened to any of the other members of his family, although he had seen several other members of the Order leave and not come back. He couldn't help but think that it would be his turn soon, but at the same time, he realised that he didn't really care any more.

He had resigned himself to death in either this squalid cell, or at the hands of a Death Eater.

But all the same, his resentment towards Harry Potter, the boy he had once tried to befriend was festering. He had lost his chance at life because of that boy, as had his sister and his brothers. He knew that if he saw Harry again, he would try to get his revenge, but for now he could do nothing but hold his sister's trembling body and wait for death or revenge, whichever came first.

His thoughts were shattered by a childish giggle, and his head shot up to look in the direction that it had come from. Standing in front of his cell was a little boy with shoulder length golden curls, dressed in an old fashioned tunic and leggings. He looked to be about eight years old, and he stood smiling at Ron.

'Who on earth would let a kid come own here by themselves?' Ron wondered. 'And why the hell is he laughing? Are all Death Eaters evil from birth?'

The boy giggled again, and beckoned Ron over to him. Glancing down at his sister, Ron placed her head and shoulders on the cell floor, before moving over to the cell door.

"Hey," he greeted. "Can you help me? I need to get out of here."

"Don't worry," the boy said, smiling. "You'll be out of here soon enough."

He had a German accent, Ron noticed. It was thick enough to be obvious, but not quite strong enough to make him hard to understand. The boy raised a hand and the cell door clicked unlocked. Then, the boy stepped in to the cell and locked it behind him once more.

"What are you doing?" Ron gasped, staring at the child as if he had gone insane. "We need to get out of here."

"It's okay," the boy soothed, reaching out a hand to caress Ron's filthy cheek. "I'll help you get out of here, but first I have to ask you something. Why are you in here?"

"My parents were in the Order of the Phoenix," Ron answered, wondering who the boy could be if he didn't already know why. "They were pretty high up in it too, but then the death Eaters found out where our Head Quarters were and they brought us all here. We've been stuck here for days."

The boy was frowning slightly, and Ron was struck by how adorable the kid was when he did that.

"Didn't the Order kidnap Harry Potter?" he asked, looking up at Ron with wide grey eyes.

"No!" Ron cried. "We rescued him from that vampire bastard he calls a father. We tried to befriend him and make him see sense, but then he turned on us. He killed my girlfriend and crucified me! That bastard is going to pay when I'm out of here."

"Is he?"

There was something in that voice that made the apparently innocent question freeze his blood. Looking back down at the boy again, his eyes widened in shock and fear.

The Death Eater guards at the end of the hallway jumped as a scream rent the air. It was cut off several seconds later by a vicious snarl and a squelching noise. Then there was a loud cracking sound.

The Death Eaters visibly trembled as a childish giggle rang through the dungeons, and they swore silently to avoid all contact with the strange little boy as much as possible. Unknown to them, the prisoners who had seen the child pass were thinking the exact same thing.

In the cell, Adalwolf stood and brushed off his leggings, before pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his lips delicately.

"I promised Harry that I would protect him," he said to the corpses of the youngest Weasleys. "And I intend to keep that promise. You hurt him, and you were going to do it again. I had to stop you from doing that. It was you who had to pay."

He quietly opened the cell door once more and let himself out, walking down pass the other cells to the stairs up to the rest of the house. Korbinian was waiting for him at the top of the stairs, and obeyed when Adalwolf asked to be carried through the halls. Adalwolf smiled into his human servant's neck and closed his eyes. He could rest easily now, knowing that Harry was just a little bit safer.

**1. Yep, Mircea is based on a real person. He was the older brother of Vlad the Impaler, or Vlad Tepes, who was supposed to be the inspiration behind Dracula. As for Mircea… he was assassinated in 1447 when he was seventeen, by being buried alive by his father's enemies: the Hungarians.**

**Radu, the other brother mentioned, was known as Radu the Handsome, and he died of syphilis in 1500, when he was sixty two. For the sake of the story, history is being changed here, but I thought you might like to know the background.**

**2. I would like to point out that the Wizarding world is officially screwed.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I'm fairly sure that trained monkeys could figure out that I don't own Harry Potter. But just in case, I only own Jericho, Adalwolf, Mircea, Bella and Korbinian. Everyone else belongs to J. K. Rowling.

**AN: **Wow this Fic's popular… Ahem. Thank you for all of your reviews and your ongoing patience. I am trying to update as quickly as possible.

I was wondering just how many of you would be interested in reading a side story about Lucius and Arthur. That particular pairing has received a lot of interest since it was introduced, so I'm curious. If I was going to write it though, it would be seperate from Dark Side Stories as that is dedicated to Harry. Please vote on whether I should write one or not when you review.

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 16

Harry glanced both ways down the corridor before sneaking out of his room, a mischievous smile playing about his lips. He tip-toed down the hall and broke into a run when he reached the end. His father was trying to get the other Council members to give him and Voldemort some privacy, so the vampires were all occupied. Lucius had vanished somewhere, Harry wasn't sure where, and Sirius and Remus were probably still in bed.

The reason why Harry was sneaking around the halls of the Dark Lord's manor was because he was supposed to meet said Dark Lord for one of their pseudo dates. He was looking forward to it a great deal, and the last thing he wanted was to be delayed by a disapproving vampire.

It wasn't that all of them really minded. Mircea, Harry realised, couldn't care less what, or who, he did so long as he did not disgrace his father. Korbinian only cared because Adalwolf did, and Adalwolf was just being overprotective.

'Scarily overprotective,' Harry reminded himself, remembering the bodies of Ron and Ginny Weasley.

As for Bella…she was being a mother hen. She saw him as someone she needed to protect, even though he wasn't her responsibility. He appreciated the gesture, and found her endless criticism of wizards pretty amusing at times, but he did wish that she would leave Voldemort alone sometimes. He still didn't know what he felt for the older man, but he didn't want Bella to put him off.

It took him two minutes to find his way through the maze of corridors and down the stairs to the side entrance of the manor, where he was meeting Voldemort. As soon as he was within reaching distance, Voldemort grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him close. Harry responded automatically, pressing his body up against the Dark Lord's and accepting the chaste kiss that brushed his lips.

"I guess that's the difficult part over with," Harry murmured, after they pulled apart, and Voldemort chuckled softly.

"We still need to find somewhere where we won't get caught," Voldemort pointed out. Harry tilted his head to one side to think.

"There's a village just past the woods, isn't there?" he asked. "I can see a couple of the houses from my bedroom window. We could go there."

"It's a Muggle village," Voldemort argued.

"All the more reason why they won't look for us there," Harry told him. "Come on, it won't be too bad, I promise. And besides, you'll get to spend time with me…"

It was Voldemort's turn to think. In the end, he shook his head and smiled, looking down at Harry fondly.

"All right, but I reserve the right to blame you entirely for this if we are caught," he said.

"Done," Harry agreed and he transfigured his clothes, and Voldemort's, to those of a Muggle. The Dark Lord glowered as his rather attractive robes turned into a pair of black jeans and a T-Shirt. They were tight enough to show off his thin body, but they weren't tight enough to be uncomfortable. Harry suspected that Voldemort was glaring because the clothes were Muggle rather than anything else.

"Stop pouting," Harry commanded. "You look fine."

"I look like a Muggle," Voldemort protested.

"That's the idea," Harry replied, raising an eyebrow. "I look like one as well. Now, are you going to Apparate us to the village or what?"

"You're getting very bossy," Voldemort muttered as he wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's waist. "Hold on."

They were gone with a loud cracking noise.

HPLV

Lucius had never publicly admitted his allegiance to Lord Voldemort, as he had been found innocent of all charges after the Dark Lord's defeat fourteen years ago, and he hadn't wanted to go through all that hassle again. Voldemort understood his reasons, and realised the value of a spy high up in the Ministry.

As it was, he couldn't get any higher up in the Ministry without being Minister of Magic. He was one of Fudge's close confidents and a trusted adviser. He was also the ambassador to the French Ministry as that was his native country.

While the Dark Lord was sneaking off on a date with his teenaged boyfriend, Lucius was trapped in a meeting with Fudge, Madame Umbridge and Amelia Bones, the latter of whom trusted him as far as she could throw him. The others…well, Fudge liked him, and Umbridge respected him, although Lucius knew that if she found out about his _real_ family history, she would try as hard as she could to have him locked up in Azkaban for life.

It was common knowledge that Umbridge hated non-humans, and especially Veela. But really, she was just another reason why Lucius spent the majority of his time pretending to be someone he wasn't.

"We need to work quickly," Fudge was saying. "We can't let You-Know-Who get the upper hand. If we do that then we're in real trouble."

"What do you plan to do?" Lucius asked. "We have no knowledge of the size of the dark Lord's forces, where he is based, or what his next plan of attack is. It could be a very foolish thing to strike when we have nothing to go on."

"Minister," Amelia Bones said, sighing slightly as she shifted in her chair. "Lord Malfoy is hardly a master strategist, but on this I have to agree with him. We cannot afford to take wild stabs in the dark right now. Morale amongst the Aurors and Unspeakables is at an all time low."

'I'm the Dark Lord's lieutenant and you _don't_ think I'm a master strategist?' Lucius thought. 'Stupid woman.'

"But we have to be seen to do something," Fudge protested.

"I quite agree Minister," Umbridge said in her sickly sweet voice, making Lucius hide a grimace in his tea cup. From the corner of his eye, he saw Madame Bones do the same. Their eyes met briefly, and for once they were united in a common thought: Umbridge was a sycophantic fool to encourage the idiot.

"Then try to raise morale," Bones suggested. "Get spies in You-Know-Who's ranks, do anything but stage an attack right now. We would fail, miserably, and that would just make things worse."

"Dumbledore always seemed to know what the Dark Lord was doing," Lucius pointed out. "Maybe you should ask his guidance."

"Dumbledore lost," Fudge said through gritted teeth.

'But he was still a far more worthy opponent than you,' Lucius thought. 'You spoiled child.'

"Again, Minister, Malfoy has a point," Bones said, shooting Lucius a frustrated look. "Dumbledore had to have had at least one spy to know as much as he did. He would know how to contact that person, if they're still alive, or how to convert a Death Eater to our cause if he isn't."

"And yet Dumbledore's spy couldn't warn him about the attack that destroyed the Order of the Phoenix," Umbridge countered. "Doing as you suggest would take time, which is one thing that we do not have. If we are to succeed then we need to strike quickly."

"I agree," Fudge said, nodding in the toad-like woman's direction.

Bones looked as though she wanted to start banging her head off the table. Lucius smothered the urge to laugh: the Wizarding world was in the hands of a complete idiot. The Dark Lord would win for sure.

"Minister, You-Know-Who has _vampires_ on his side," Bones said desperately. "You can't expect Aurors with such low morale to go up against them and win."

"I thought it was only one vampire," Lucius commented idly.

"A Master Vampire," Bones argued. "Who knows how many that thing might have under its command."

"Wasn't there an investigation as to _why_ that vampire joined the Dark Lord's ranks at that particular time?" Lucius asked nastily. "If I remember correctly, it was because your Aurors had mistakenly arrested the vampire's son, believing him to be Harry Potter."

Bones glared at him.

"Be that as it may, the vampire might still be allied to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," she said.

"Or he could have left, which, considering how little vampires care for human politics, is more than likely," Lucius retorted.

"An excellent point, Lucius," Fudge agreed. "You seem to be outvoted Amelia."

Bones grit her teeth and said nothing, although she did give Lucius a poisonous look. He had made her look like a fool in front of the Minister, and he had discredited the work that her department did. Lucius merely returned her glare with a bored look of his own and directed his attention to the idiot in charge.

'My Lord didn't want this lot to know of his allegiances,' he thought. 'And so they won't. While the best defence is a good offence, a surprise is a close second. I will need to tell him that Bones needs to be disposed of as quickly as possible, though. She's far too intelligent.'

It was decided. Aurors would be sent on a sweep of the country to find as many Dark wizards and beings as possible and bring them to justice. Aurors would also be stationed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, along with Dolores Umbridge as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and High Inquisitor. The Ministry was going to try and stop the spread of Voldemort's influence in its tracks.

HPLV

Lord Voldemort, however, was busy doing something that the Ministry would never expect him to do, let alone his own Death Eaters. He was sitting in a Muggle coffee shop, in a Muggle village (that his father's family had owned about two hundred years ago, but that was irrelevant), sipping at a cup of black coffee and watching Harry Potter.

In fact, screw the Ministry and the Death Eaters, _Voldemort_ had never expected to be doing this. It was testament to the fact that, whether he liked it or not, his budding relationship with Harry was definitely having an effect on him.

What stunned him the most was that he was enjoying himself. He liked this change that was taking place. Oh, he was no less the Dark Lord, and he was still a ruthless killer, leader and politician, but Harry was bringing out the human part of him that he had kept buried for so long.

The village of Little Hangleton was small and, well, it was like pretty much every other English country village. It was comprised mostly of cottages, with the occasional house. There were a series of little shops, including a second hand book shop, in which they had spent the morning. Voldemort had almost forgotten how much he had enjoyed reading Muggle literature over Wizarding. Almost. It would horrify his Death Eaters if they knew he had copies of Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, The Silmarillion, War and Peace and Lord of the Flies squirreled away in his bedroom.

Harry had found out, of course, the brat knew everything, and he had laughed before complimenting him on his choice of reading. Now though, they were talking politics.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to wait so long to attack the Ministry?" Harry asked quietly. He knew that it would not be a good thing if any of the Muggles heard them talking about what was, effectively, mass murder and terrorism over coffee and cheesecake.

"If I wasn't sure then I wouldn't be doing it," Voldemort pointed out.

"What if they come after you?" Harry asked.

"That's the idea," Voldemort replied gently. "They can come after me all they like, but they don't know where I am, what I'm doing, what I'm planning, or who my allies are. If they come after me, then they will make a huge mistake: the Auror forces will be crushed, and Fudge's government will lose any respect that it managed to salvage after the Platform Battle."

"So you're counting on them coming after you, because then they will be easier to destroy," Harry said, understanding the plot. "Spread out looking for you, the Aurors will be defeated more easily than if you were to attack the Ministry directly, and they will pretty much lose everything.

"I don't know though, are you sure that they won't figure it out?"

Voldemort laughed.

"Harry, there are only two people high up in the Ministry who can be classed as 'intelligent'," he said. "And Lucius works for me."

HPLV

'_Dear Draco,' _the letter started. It was written in handwriting that was so familiar to the blonde teenager who held it that he didn't need to look at the initials at the bottom to know it was from his father. **1**

'_Judging from your letters since your belated start of term, I realise that the year so far has been boring for you. I write to tell you that it will soon become much more interesting, and to warn you._

'_Fudge has decreed that Aurors are to be stationed at Hogwarts in an attempt to stem the flow of support for the Dark Lord from the younger generation. Due to longstanding reputation, Slytherin will no doubt be closely watched. In addition to this, your new Defence teacher, though there is no doubt that she will teach you little, is none other than Dolores Umbridge, the Minister's Undersecretary. She will also hold the position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor, which will give her the power to expel not only students but teachers from the school if she sees fit._

'_I don't think that I need to tell you just how careful you must be around these knew additions to the school. You must remain quiet about not only our family's political stance, but also your lineage. If Umbridge finds out what you are then there will be no chance of you continuing your education in this country. You are not an idiot Draco, so do not dare act as such. Leave foolish acts of bravery or open rebellion to the Gryffindors._

'_This does not mean that I want you to take the Ministry's stupidity lying down. Be creative in your revenge, my son, and keep Slytherin House as far out of suspicion as you can. Our Lord will soon triumph, and soon there will be no need to hide, but for now we must. Don't let me down, Draco._

'_love,_

'_L.M._

'_P.S. Burn this letter once you have read it.'_

Draco lowered the letter and smiled. He had already read it through a few times, and the last had been out loud to his fellow Slytherins. His boyfriend Blaise Zabini was sprawled out on the sofa, his head on Draco's lap, and he was smiling slightly. Crabbe and Goyle were in the kitchens so they weren't there. They didn't need to know, Draco had realised, as they would do what he said without question anyway. Pansy, Millicent and Daphne were giggling, and Theodore was watching Draco closely.

"What about non-Slytherin supporters?" he asked.

"You mean Longbottom?" Draco drawled. At Theodore's nod, he sighed. "He'll need to be told, they all will."

"It'll be a group effort," Pansy pointed out. "There are so many of us in the school."

It was true, Draco mused. Voldemort had plenty of supporters in the school, and they had been growing in number since his return four years ago, and even Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were joining the Dark Lord's cause. One of the more surprising conversions was that of Neville Longbottom, who had done it partially out of loathing for the Ministry, and partially out of his love for Theodore. They had been together since their Third Year, almost as long as Draco and Blaise, and they were quite the cute couple.

"Alright, spread the word," Draco told them. "But be discreet. The last thing we need is to attract attention, especially when we don't know when the Aurors and Umbridge are moving in."

"Yes Draco," Millicent said, rolling her eyes. "We know. We aren't totally incompetent."

"I was just making sure," Draco replied, grinning at her. "This is far too important to screw up."

HPLV

"Where have you _been_?" Bella demanded her hands on her hips.

Voldemort glared at her as he closed the door behind him and Harry. By his side, he heard Harry sigh softly, and caught a glimpse of the teen shaking his head.

"We were out on a date, Bella," Harry explained. "Voldemort is my fiancée, you know."

The short woman scowled in a way that clearly implied that she hated the very idea of it.

"Bella, we have been through this," a soft, accented voice said.

Voldemort blinked, and looked past Bella to the vampire who stood behind her. It was Mircea, the only one of the vampires who seemed to come from a completely neutral stand point.

"We spent three hours discussing their union this morning," Mircea continued. "Please tell me that you were paying attention long enough to hear our final decision."

"Of course I was," she snapped. "But that does not mean that I have to approve; especially when this human Dark Lord sneaks Harry away for hours on end without telling us where they are going."

"You are not my mother Bella," Harry snapped. "And I am not under your jurisdiction. The only Council members that have the right to object are Pater and Adalwolf, not you."

"Brat," she hissed.

"Back off," Jericho said as he entered the hall. "Harry is right."

"But…" she protested.

Jericho glared at her and she stopped, turning away and clasping her hands in front of her.

"We decided, in case you hadn't guessed," Jericho continued, now speaking to Harry and Voldemort. "That the two of you are free to pursue your relationship as you see fit."

"Although if you do wed, we expect to be invited," Mircea said, smiling at the two of them.

"Of course," Harry murmured. "I wouldn't dare leave you out."

Mircea laughed softly. The vampires started to wander away, but Mircea paused.

"Your disappearing act this morning did have us worried Harry," he said. "And jurisdiction or not, we do care about you. Tell us where you are next time, please, or you will have not just an angry Bella to deal with."

Harry nodded, and Voldemort did as well.

"Where is Adalwolf?" Harry asked, changing the topic to a slightly more comfortable one.

"Relieving stress with Korbinian," Mircea said with a slight grimace. "I wouldn't disturb them; he was quite irritated by your departure."

"Ah," Harry said.

Voldemort was slightly confused, but judging by the look on the vampire's face, he didn't really want to know what 'relieving stress' was supposed to entail. Mircea gave then a small smile and turned to walk down the corridor in the same direction that Bella had gone in.

"I had best go and stop her from torturing your prisoners and taking her anger at you out on them," he said over his shoulder. "Some of them will be important in this war, and they should be given a chance of life on the Dark side."

Harry and Voldemort stood side by side, watching his retreating back. After he was gone, Voldemort turned to look down at the teen whose hand was still clasped in his own.

"What the hell was that about?" he asked.

"That was Mircea being Mircea," Harry said, shaking his head, a gentle smile on his lips. "He's always like that, really, so if he confuses you then be glad he doesn't talk very much. He is usually right though."

"So there are prisoners worth saving," Voldemort mused. "I'll wait for input from Lucius before I do anything more with them."

Harry shrugged. "They're your prisoners," he said calmly.

Voldemort nodded and wound his arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry looked up at him and smiled as he then leant up to kiss the Dark Lord gently on the cheek.

"I've missed spending time with you," he admitted softly.

"So have I," Voldemort replied.

**1. Face it; you guys have _so_ been waiting for Draco to appear. I decided that, as Lucius becomes more important to the main plot, that Draco should lead the sub-plot characters. The Hogwarts section could have been told from any angle, but I thought his would be the best.**

**And for those of you who are interested, our dear Severus Snape will be in it soon.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter, I just own the members of the Vampire Council (so far).

**AN: **The side story about Arthur and Lucius is now posted. It is called 'Taboo' and can be accessed through my profile. You guys asked for it, so please tell me what you think of it and review.

As for this Fic…well, the plot should begin to move a bit more quickly. Bear with me though; this thing has a tendency to write itself at times, regardless of what I want it to do. This is, I hate to admit, a filler chapter and pretty damn short. It was also really hard to write. Just remember to read and review, preferably with some enjoyment on the way.

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 17

Lucius awoke slowly, and when his sleep-fogged mind cleared fully, he groaned. He raised a long-fingered hand to his forehead and began to massage his temples.

'It's _never_ good to start a day with a headache,' he thought sourly.

However, he had to admit that there was a good reason behind the throbbing behind his eyes. He had a meeting with Fudge, Umbridge and Bones ahead of him, no doubt followed by a report to Voldemort, during which he had to ask for immunity for his ex-boyfriend. And through all of that, he had to find enough resolve not to start hexing everything in sight.

"One day," he muttered. "I am going to kill those Ministry fools, and I am going to laugh while I do it."

Slowly, he slipped his legs out from between the silk sheets of his bed and curled his toes in the rug on the floor. He stretched slowly, arching his back and raising his arms above his head, and sighing as his joints cracked.

He stood and wandered through to his ensuite bathroom, cursing Fudge under his breath with every step. Lucius just couldn't wait until this was all over.

HPLV

Draco snuggled into the warmth beneath him, uncaring that it went against his frosty Slytherin image. Warm breath fanned over his shoulder, and arms tightened around his waist. Draco opened his eyes blearily and blinked twice before focusing on Blaise's chest.

It had always fascinated him to study the contrast between them when they were lying like this in each others' arms. Blaise was so dark next to Draco, like night in comparison to day. He lifted his head slowly to study Blaise's sleeping face.

He knew that what peace they had now was soon to be shattered as the war invaded Hogwarts so he was determined to make it last. They would probably have little time for each other when Umbridge and the Aurors arrived as they would be too busy keeping the whole of Slytherin and the Dark Lord's supporters from other houses on a very short leash. It wasn't like they were in charge of the Dark supporters within Hogwarts, but they were among the most influential. They did have close ties with both the Dark Lord and the Ministry after all.

Draco sighed softly and pressed a gentle kiss to Blaise's chest. The war could come later; for now, he was content just to stay here.

HPLV

It was a lot quieter in the Riddle House now that the vampires, excluding Jericho, had left. Voldemort had never really noticed how loud the dead could be until the quiet aftermath hit. They had left early that morning to head for their various homes or to the Council; Voldemort really couldn't care less. What he did care about, however, was that he finally had a signed Allegiance Contract with all but two of the European vampires on the council.

Jericho had explained as much of the system as he was willing to give away to him the previous day. There were fifteen Master Vampires on the Vampire Council, and it was their responsibility to make sure that Muggles were unaware of the existence of their species and that the Wizarding World left them alone. They were separated into groups by continent, and then each vampire on the Council was given a jurisdiction of several countries and all the vampires within those countries. It was a big job, and the only way to get it was through sheer power.

Hearing all of that only made Voldemort more resolved not to piss Jericho off, especially when it came to Harry.

Harry. Voldemort smiled slightly when he thought of the young man who was no doubt curled up in his library, pouring over the books he had there. Harry was far more persistent than Voldemort had thought he would be, when it came to the matter of their engagement, but that did not mean that he was in any way uncomfortable with that. The boy did make marriage seem very appealing, after all. However, today Harry seemed to be taking a break in getting to know his future husband. Voldemort didn't particularly mind that either. It meant that he could get on with plotting to take over the Wizarding World and deal with the paper work that had built up on his desk during the vampires' stay.

Sometimes, being the Evil Overlord was not as entertaining as he had expected.

Lucius would be coming to him soon with a report from the Ministry. He had been called into yet another meeting, which made Voldemort acutely aware that the Ministry was going to try and do something about him. Try. Voldemort wasn't really worried about them. What he was worried about was the chance of Dumbledore re-entering the picture.

He pondered that. Though he had discredited Dumbledore, it did not mean that Fudge would not stoop to asking the old wizard for advice if he was desperate. And Voldemort was planning to make Fudge desperate, because that was when he was more likely to make mistakes.

Voldemort snapped his fingers and summoned a House Elf. Maybe it was time to arrange for Dumbledore to have a 'little accident'.

HPLV

Rodolphus Lestrange was normally a calm and quite sensible man, even if Dementor exposure had addled his brains a little. He _did_ have to deal with his wife after all. However, after finding the Weasley twins kissing in a darkened passageway in the Dark Lord's manor, he really did have to wonder if he was the only sane person left in the building. Or at least, the only straight one.

He had backed away from the twins quietly and allowed them some privacy. Apparently they didn't get enough of it in their room.

He was disturbed in his aimless wanderings around the manor by the sudden appearance of a House Elf.

"Master Rodolphus in wanted in Master's study," the Elf said, giving him a nervous little bow before leaving with a crack of displaced air.

Rodolphus shrugged. It wasn't as if he could refuse, even if he did have something better to do. He changed direction and started down another corridor in the maze-like building. He had been stuck here more or less since his escape from Azkaban, and so he knew the halls well. Probably better than anyone, considering just how good his memory was. It didn't take him long to reach his Master's door. He knocked gently, and waited for the command to enter.

He pushed the door open and closed it behind him before crossing the carpet to the Dark Lord's desk. It had been red before Vesper had dripped blood all over it when asking for Voldemort's help in finding his son, and the Dark Lord had changed it to black rather than getting an Elf to clean it. Rodolphus resisted the urge to hit himself. Why on earth did his brain keep providing him with bits of useless information like this? Who really cared about the state of the Dark Lord's carpet?

"Ah Rodolphus," Voldemort said, lowering his quill and interrupting Rodolphus' train of thought.

"You wished to see me Master?" Rodolphus asked, giving a small bow.

"Yes, I have a job for you," Voldemort said calmly. "I think you will enjoy it, really. It will allow you to be…inventive."

"Master?" Rodolphus asked. He was grateful for the opportunity to get out of the manor and do something, but what on earth did Voldemort have in mind? He did _not _like the smile on the Dark Lord's face.

"I want you to sneak into St Mungo's, and I want you to kill Albus Dumbledore."


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; I am not J K Rowling or anyone else affiliated with the series; I am a poor, penniless student writing this for entertainment purposes only.

AN: This took me a while to write as I was too busy to start it until the Christmas holidays. It is longer than the last chapter, but it was a lot easier to write. Though maybe that's because the plot is moving again. Anyway,I hope you enjoy this latest enstallment and don't forget to review when you're done!

This will be my last update on this story before Christmas, so Merry Christmas to all of you! For those who don't celebrate it (like me) I hope you enjoy the holiday anyway. I'm aiming for a mid-January update on this as I have exams when I get back to college, so please be patient with me.

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 18

It was horrifyingly easy to get into St Mungo's if you were prepared to break the law to do it. All it had taken was the Imperius Curse, two doses of Polyjuice Potion and the Killing Curse, and Rodolphus Lestrange was well on his way to completing his mission. His satisfaction at being able to fulfil his Master's wishes was, however, tainted by disgust at how simple the task was proving to be. But at least he was out of that manor.

The ability to walk somewhere that wasn't covered with the impenetrable wards of the Dark Lord was refreshing to Rodolphus. He had truly been cooped up too long. While his wife was more than happy to stay indoors and torture the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, Rodolphus had always been more of a free spirit. He was the kind of man who would peer out of his bedroom window on the night of a full moon and watch in envy as Fenrir Greyback play-fought with his vampire lover in wolf-form in the Dark Lord's extensive gardens before they moved on to the forest beyond the wards. To envy a werewolf his freedom… That alone was enough proof that Rodolphus longed for the outdoors.

No one questioned him as he walked towards the ward where Albus Dumbledore was staying. The Dark Lord had done his research well, and the woman Rodolphus was currently replacing was a nurse there. She had been young, just out of Hogwarts actually, and Rodolphus had hated her as soon as he literally stepped into her shoes. Why on earth did the girl have to wear shoes that were this high to take care of old wizards?

A horrible thought that the girl might have been a gold-digger sprung unbidden to Rodolphus' mind. He forced it away: he had to concentrate on his mission. Besides, Bellatrix would like the shoes, and the fact that they were her size and they had come from a dead girl would make them all the more appealing to her.

He loved his wife dearly, but sometimes even he had to admit that she was a little strange.

He finally reached the room where Dumbledore was staying. Even though he knew that the walk had been much shorter than it seemed, the agony in his feet and his nerves had made it stretch on forever. He knocked lightly on the door and opened it.

Dumbledore was sitting in a chair by the window deep in thought. The sunlight shining through it etched his wrinkles deeper into his face and highlighted his white hair with brilliant silver. He seemed so much older now than the last time Rodolphus had seen him.

Even though the old man's wrist had healed, his mind had not and he was still suffering from shock. The knowledge that his Order and his war and his fight for Harry Potter had been in vain had really done a number on him, Rodolphus realised. The Albus Dumbledore of old was already dead; Rodolphus was just here to clean up the mess.

He approached the chair with the tray of food, delicately laced with a particularly nasty but untraceable poison and placed it on the table next to the elderly wizard. Dumbledore didn't even glance at him.

"Time to eat Professor!" Rodolphus said, trying to make himself sound as cheery as possible. "I'll be back when you're done. Eat it while it's hot now."

He turned his back on his old headmaster and left as quickly as possible, painfully aware of his time limit.

Within minutes of his departure Albus Dumbledore, one of the three most powerful wizards in the world was nothing more than a withered husk; the bright colours of his robes mocking his desiccated flesh. The poison had caused him to dry out completely: a painful experience that meant he was mummified while still alive.

Rodolphus' job was done.

HPLV

Voldemort looked up from his paperwork to see Jericho Vesper standing and staring at him. It was one of the more disquieting moments in Voldemort's life as he realised that the vampire had been there for quite some time.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"It's about Harry," Vesper said.

Voldemort felt a sudden urge to start banging his head off his desk. What was wrong now? Harry was happy; he was happy…why the bloody hell did Vesper have to keep interfering.

"I think that you should start planning the wedding," Vesper continued, ignoring the expression on Voldemort's face that was caused by his last statement.

Voldemort blinked. "Oh?" he said. He had not been expecting that at all.

"I'm all for long engagements," Vesper said lightly as he conjured himself a chair with a wave of one of his slim hands. "But Harry adores you, and I think that he would feel much more secure in the relationship if you made it permanent. He's just that kind of person."

"Right, right," Voldemort replied. "Wedding, yes."

"Are you alright?" Vesper asked.

Voldemort felt like laughing hysterically at the vampire until he reminded himself that Vesper could, and probably would, rip him into little pieces by using only his mind. Was he alright?

While Voldemort managed to keep up the pretence of managing his occupation as Dark Lord and future Ruler of the Wizarding World in front of his Death Eaters, the truth was that it was very stressful. And Voldemort _hated_ paperwork.

He hadn't got over the revelation that Lucius was in love with Arthur bloody Weasley yet, either.

"I'm fine," he said after a while.

Vesper hummed in vague disapproval and whisked a piece of parchment off Voldemort's desk. He let his eyes flick over it and arched an eyebrow.

"Wereleopards?" he asked.

"They want an allegiance," Voldemort told him. "They heard about Greyback's pack joining me and decided that they wanted in as well. They're young and a relatively small pack but they have potential."

"I see," Vesper murmured. "Accept them, but I would advise keeping an eye on them for a while. You will need all the help you can get if you are to really overturn the Ministry."

"I know that," Voldemort bit out. He sighed and rested his head in his hand. "It just means more teenagers in the house."

Vesper laughed. He handed the document back to the Dark Lord and stood, his chair vanishing. "Get used to it," he said. "You're soon to be married to one."

He left as silently as he had arrived.

HPLV

Arthur lay curled up on his side in a warm bed, the arms of the love of his life around him. He was exhausted from his stressful stay in the Dark Lord's dungeons, having spent days sitting on a hard, cold stone floor watching his old comrades being led out by Death Eaters one by one, never to come back, but knowing that he had the chance to survive.

He had fallen ill during his last few days in the dungeons, and now had to deal with Lucius playing nursemaid. Not that he minded, of course. He did love the other man after all.

He felt Lucius press a gentle kiss to the back of his neck and he smiled sadly. How could he put his reasons for abandoning Lucius into words? How could he explain Molly finding out what Lucius really was? Had Lucius truly forgiven him for the events over the past years? What would his surviving children think?

Could he deal with having to share Lucius with Narcissa?

He had so many questions, but he was afraid to ask them. A large part of that was the fear of rejection. He knew that Lucius had risked his life to free him, but there was still so much history between them, and there was so much that could go wrong. So much that could never be forgotten. He had thrown Lucius aside for a comfortable and easy life with a wife, children and without being hounded by his family for tying himself to another man. He had been so foolish, and he had regretted it every day since.

"Stop thinking," Lucius murmured in his ear. He was tired and his soft French accent was more pronounced than usual. "We can talk when you are better. Rest for now and let me take care of you."

"Thank you," Arthur whispered back. It had always amazed him how easily Lucius was able to calm him down. He relaxed in Lucius' arms and drifted off to sleep, comfortable in the knowledge that for now he was safe.

HPLV

Harry looked up from the Potion he was brewing in one of Voldemort's work rooms when the door swung open. It was the Dark Lord, and Harry beamed at him. He hadn't seen his fiancée for a few days and he had been missing him, although he had realised that Voldemort was busy and didn't want to be disturbed.

"Hey," he said softly. Voldemort smiled back at him and crossed over to where Harry stood with his cauldron. He wrapped his arms around Harry's thin waist and buried his face in the teen's hair, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. A glance into the cauldron had told him that the potion was Wolfsbane, probably for Greyback, and that it was well within Harry's capabilities. The boy _was_ a Potions Master, after all.

"Hello brat," Voldemort said fondly as he pressed a kiss to the top of Harry's head. The boy leaned back into his embrace and lifted one of his hands off the wooden stick he was using to stir the potion to grip Voldemort's hand.

"I missed you," the Dark Lord continued, and Harry grinned.

"I missed you too," he replied. "The potion will be done soon. I just need to add the moonstone and then I can leave it to cool."

"Good," Voldemort said. He released Harry and conjured a sofa to sit on while he waited. Harry grinned at him and continued to stir. When he was done, he approached the older man slowly and sat next to him on the couch. He glanced up at Voldemort through his long black eyelashes and saw that he was being watched intently. He blushed.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked.

"Yes," Voldemort admitted. "I have been thinking about our relationship and I wanted to talk to you."

Harry held his breath. He didn't trust himself to speak. Voldemort's soft voice sounded so serious.

"I think, Harry, that we shouldn't wait much longer before we get married," Voldemort continued.

"Huh?"

Voldemort had decided to take Vesper's advice about marrying soon. It wasn't just that he wanted a solid, definite tie to the Master Vampire and his powers even though that_ would_ be useful to his cause. He really did want to be with Harry, the sooner the better.

He studied Harry's face, watching as emotions flashed over it unchecked. Confusion, realisation, then absolute joy and Voldemort suddenly found himself with a lap filled with an excited teenage boy, a passionate kiss pressed against his lips. He kissed back, holding Harry close to him.

When they broke apart, Harry shifted in Voldemort's lap so he was sitting more comfortably and rested his head on the Dark Lord's shoulder. Voldemort entwined their fingers gently in response.

"I take it you agree with my idea then," he said softly.

"Yes," Harry replied. "Of course I do, I…I want this."

Voldemort brushed his lips over Harry's cheek gently. "So do I. Harry. there's something else that I wanted to talk to you about."

"What?" Harry asked.

"There are going to be a pack of wereleopards joining us in a few days," he said. "They are possible allies, but they are young. A couple of years older than you, I think. I want you and those blasted twins your father dragged back to keep an eye on them and see if they can be trusted to join the ranks or whether they should remain supporters."

"Isn't it dangerous to bring them here if you don't trust them fully?" Harry asked.

"This is hardly my only stronghold, Harry," Voldemort told him. "I have other places to go, and my followers are strong enough to take on six teenaged wereleopards without any magical ability if they decide to betray us."

"Oh," Harry didn't really have much to say to that. "Then…okay. I'll do it.

The door to the workroom swung open once more and Rodolphus Lestrange entered. He gave a low bow to Voldemort, and tried to avoid the Dark Lord and Harry's glares at his interruption.

"I beg your pardon, my Lord, I thought you were alone," he said smoothly, glancing briefly at the pretty teenage boy on his Master's lap. He knew who the boy was, and who his adopted father was, and even though he knew that the two were not related by blood, the expression on Harry Potter's face at that moment reminded him strongly of the Master Vampire.

"What is it Rodolphus? Voldemort asked. He rubbed Harry's lower back to calm him down, and was relieved when Harry stopped glaring to snuggle back into Voldemort's chest.

"The task you gave me, my Lord," Rodolphus replied. "It has been done. Dumbledore is dead and I got away with minimum casualties."

"Good," Voldemort said approvingly. He felt Harry's lips tilt up into a smile against his throat at the news and he tightened his hold on the boy. "You have done well Rodolphus and you will be rewarded accordingly."

"Thank you, my Lord," Rodolphus said. Sensing the unsaid dismissal, he backed towards the door and left. He risked a glance back at his Master and saw him playing idly with some of the Potter boy's long black hair. Rodolphus smiled: his Lord deserved to be happy and, after all, his happiness made life for his Death Eaters one hell of a lot easier.

HPLV

Madam Dolores Umbridge inspected her new living quarters at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a critical eye. The stone walls and floors with their think rugs and tapestries were not to her taste but they would have to do. She would suffer the Gothic décor and the irritating children it was now her job to teach if it would make the Minister happy.

However, teaching was not her only job at this school. She had been promoted to a post that no one before her had ever held – the Hogwarts High Inquisitor. It was a sign of just how much the Minister trusted her that she had been given the power to sack whichever staff members or expel whichever students she saw fit, if she had adequate reason. She had been given the responsibility to find the Dark Lord's supporters in this school and either remove them from the school community or make them see things the Ministry's way. She did not think that she would have to worry too much about the students, but she knew that she would have to play her cards close to her chest with the staff. Especially Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape; those two were the only members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix that were accounted for, apart from the corpses that had been delivered to the Ministry. The only living reminders of that relic of a society…

She could not trust them.

Dolores had to find students that agreed with the Ministry, preferably those whose parents worked for it. She wanted spies among the students. She needed to know what rumours were abound amongst the student body, particularly those that concerned the staff. They would be her Inquisitorial Squad.

And she knew exactly where to start. The son of Lucius Malfoy, a Fifth Year Slytherin, would undoubtedly have the kinds of connections that an ideal member of the Squad would need. All Dolores needed to do was find a way to persuade the boy.

She sat back on her new pink sofa and sipped at a cup of sweet, milky tea, letting herself relax after a long and trying day. She wasn't worried about her responsibilities; she knew that she could never disappoint the Minister. The Ministry would soon own Hogwarts; she would make sure of that.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I make no money from writing this story.

AN: Yeah…this took a long time to get up, but I've had a bit of a block on this Fic. That's not even mentioning RL: coursework, college, turning twenty (I'm old!). Ugh. The plot's pretty complicated too and working out where everyone should go next is like playing chess against some unbeatable opponent…and unfortunately I'm not too good at chess. Oh well, I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway, despite the long wait. Please let me know through reviews!

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 19

Harry watched the wereleopards from the drawing room window as they approached the house, guarded by Death Eaters and members of the Greyback pack. They all looked surprisingly normal, with nothing that would give them away as non-humans. Harry didn't know why that shocked him. After all, out of all of the werewolves he knew, it was only Fenrir who didn't look like a normal human. Maybe it was because feline lycanthropes were so much rarer than their canine brethren.

The information that Voldemort had provided him with was sparse. They all had Dark inclinations, and they formed a pack with quite a large territory in the north east of England. However, the information didn't state which of them was the alpha, or pack-leader, so it was up to Harry to figure that out. At first glance he assumed that it was one of the two males – a muscular boy with floppy bleach-blonde hair who walked near the front of their small group. He certainly looked like he was capable of being their leader, but something didn't seem right.

He turned away from the window and put the book he had been reading down on the table. It was time for him to go and meet them. Fred and George looked up when Harry stood.

"Time to go then?" Fred asked, and Harry simply nodded in response. He smoothed down his robes self-consciously and turned to leave. Fred and George followed.

They had been given the task of getting to know the wereleopard pack along with Harry not only because they were the closest in age to the newcomers, but also because they were so likeable. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that Voldemort had sent them along because their informal attitude to pretty much everything would make the wereleopards relax. After all, it wasn't as if Harry needed protection.

When Harry held out his hand in welcome, his gut instinct was proved correct when the floppy-haired blonde boy did not shake it first. Instead it was a relatively plump girl with long black hair.

"I'm Harry Potter," he said by way of introduction. "And these two are Fred and George Weasley."

"I'm Laura," the black haired girl said, raising a hand slowly to brush some of her hair behind her ear before she used it to indicate her pack-mates. "This is Chris, Lewis, Lauren, Mia and Ari."

"Hello," Chris greeted. He was the taller of the two boys, and he had black hair and eyes set into tanned skin. Ari, one of the girls, stood close by him, almost protectively.

'They're dating,' Harry thought instantly.

He led them into the drawing room to sit and ordered refreshments via a House Elf. Lewis – the blonde boy – flopped on the couch where Fred and George had been sitting just moments before and Laura sat next to him. Lauren, a tall girl with untidily cut shoulder-length blonde hair sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled Ari down next to her, even though Ari was casting a longing look in the direction of the bookcase. The other two – Chris and Mia – sat together on the love-seat.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all at last," Harry admitted truthfully: it would be nice to have people his own age around who weren't Fred and George, even though he knew that even if the wereleopards did decide to join them then they probably wouldn't stay long. They did have a territory to defend after all.

"Likewise," Ari said quietly. She was a pale, curvy girl with long dyed red hair. It looked messy as if she hadn't bothered to brush it that morning; a similar lack of care for appearance was reflected in her clothes as well. "I've always wanted to meet the _famous_ Harry Potter."

She looked up then, directly into his eyes, before turning her gaze to the books once more.

"I thought that you would be taller."

HPLV

"Mister Malfoy,"

The sickly sweet voice of his new, and useless, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher called Draco back into the classroom just as he was about to leave after a too long, in his opinion, lesson. There was only so much note passing you could do before getting noticed, and hexing his classmates was out of the question. This new teacher was surprisingly observant for such a fool.

"Yes Professor?" he asked, careful to keep his tone polite and even. There was no point in antagonising the ridiculous woman, especially since it would lead to a punishment that he could easily avoid.

"Do you enjoy your Prefect duties, Mister Malfoy?" she asked, watching him carefully over as she spoke. She was shuffling some of the papers on her desk without any obvious reason other than to make Draco think that she was busier than she really was.

"Yes Professor," he told her.

She cleared her throat: an irritating 'hem hem' sound that set Draco's teeth on edge. "I was asking, Mister Malfoy, because it is part of my job in this school to act as High Inquisitor."

The title sent a shiver down Draco's spine. Like most pureblood wizards, especially those whose families heralded from mainland Europe, he had relatives who had met their…sticky ends in the Inquisition. It was a touchy subject amongst most wizards and one of the reasons why their world was kept secret from Muggles.

"Professor?"

"I am forming a group of students – the Inquisitorial Squad, if you will. The students involved will have an extension of Prefect duties, with the authority to detain other students who they believe are working against the Ministry," Umbridge explained. "I would like you to be one of them. You have the responsibility, and the connections within the student body to do well in this."

"Thank you Professor," Draco said. He was processing this new information at breakneck speed. If he agreed to do this then he would be forced to spend a lot of time with Umbridge, but it would also give him a greater position in the school. He could find a lot more students who were loyal to the Dark Lord and find a way to unite them. He would be more useful if he took this job, but it would put him in a lot of danger… It was time for Draco to give in to his well-hidden and almost non-existent Gryffindor side.

"I'll do it," he said.

The walk back to his common room seemed to take much less time than it usually did due to the daze Draco was in. He paid no attention to his surroundings as he drifted through the halls. It was only when he reached the patch of wall where the entrance to Slytherin House lay that he stopped. Blaise was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest and a worried frown creasing his smooth forehead. He looked up as Draco approached, and his dark brown eyes instantly fixed on the silver 'I' shaped badge that had been fixed to Draco's robes just above his Prefect badge.

"Draco?" he asked. "What happened?"

"I just made a deal with the devil, Blaise," Draco admitted, before he stepped into Blaise's welcoming arms and relaxed in the warm embrace.

"What?"

"I'll explain inside," Draco told him. "The corridors have ears Blaise. We aren't safe anymore."

HPLV

Jericho leaned over Fenrir and kissed him passionately. The werewolf beneath him groaned loudly and raised his hands to caress Jericho's hips as Jericho's lips kissed a searing line down the side of Fenrir's neck.

"Do it," Fenrir panted, tilting his head back so that Jericho could have better access to his throat.

He felt Jericho smirk against his soft flesh and a long, wet tongue flicked out to coat a small area of his neck with the natural anaesthetic in the vampire's saliva. He felt Jericho open his mouth wide, and needle-sharp fangs graze his neck before his lover bit down.

Fenrir felt pleasure surge through him and he bucked up at the sensation. Jericho moaned loudly as Fenrir's blood filled his mouth, and as the werewolf thrust deep into him. Their fingers entwined on the mattress beside them as they made love.

Afterwards, Jericho propped himself up on his elbow and touched a finger to the bite on Fenrir's neck. A spark of black magic leaped from the tip of his finger to embed itself into Fenrir's flesh, knitting the edges of the wound together in a second. He didn't like to see his lover bleed unnecessarily.

"What are you thinking about?" Fenrir asked quietly after a moment's silence.

"A lot of things, my dear," Jericho replied.

"That's not an answer." Fenrir moved quickly as he spoke and he soon had Jericho pinned to the mattress. Jericho didn't even flinch: he just looked up into Fenrir's yellow eyes calmly.

"I…I can't help but wonder how all this will turn out in the end," he admitted softly. "And if in the long run, we have done the right thing."

"Whatever happens, you probably won't live to see it," Fenrir reminded him. "You're mortal now."

While most people wouldn't have liked a reminder of something like that, Jericho relaxed under Fenrir and gave him a loving smile.

"I know," Jericho said, still smiling. "I just can't help it. I've spent two thousand years thinking that I will live forever, and so I'm used to that."

Fenrir kissed him gently. "You don't regret it, do you?"

"Of course not! I wanted to be your mate even before you were deported after Voldemort's fall. You know that. Why would I change my mind now? So what if your death leads directly to mine now? Our lives are irrevocably entwined now and I couldn't be happier about it. Besides, even if you had not claimed me before your death, I would not have wanted to live on."

Fenrir leaned down to kiss him again. "I love you."

HPLV

Lucius swept out of his office at the Ministry and headed straight for the fireplaces so that he could go home to his beloved Arthur. They had sorted everything out between them the day before yesterday, which was when Lucius had been made to go into work once again. He hadn't wanted to leave Arthur, but he did have other responsibilities.

It had been difficult to hold his tongue at times, as most Ministry officials thought Arthur to be dead along with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix, while Lucius was the only one among them who knew differently. It was not even widely known among the Death Eaters: most of them had probably taken Arthur's removal from the Dark Lord's dungeon to mean that he was dead. It wasn't all that much of a surprise. The Dark Lord didn't like keeping corpses in his dungeons.

He was keeping Arthur at the Dark Lord's manor because he would be safer there, and because Narcissa didn't know where it was. He had filed for a divorce from his wife – and he really should warn Draco about it at some point – and he was expecting her to come back from France in a towering rage over the slight. After all, _why_ he would want anyone else was completely beyond her, and their marriage was very convenient for her. She got money, status and clothes and jewellery that befitted that status. That wouldn't last for very long. She would soon have to make her own way in the world.

Just before he reached the fireplaces, however, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. He turned just in time to see a slight grimace on Amelia Bones' face, as if she had touched something filthy, before her face became blank and she removed her hand.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Consider this a friendly warning Malfoy," she replied, her voice like ice. "If I find out that you have become involved with You-Know-Who again, then I will not hesitate to sentence you to the Dementor's Kiss."

"Really?" Lucius asked mildly. "I'm afraid you'd have to prove my involvement first."

"Is that a challenge, Malfoy?" she asked. She was glaring at him now, and Lucius decided to try and take her threat as seriously as it was no doubt intended.

"Maybe," he replied. "That depends on your definition of 'challenge', I suppose. Although, Madame – and please consider this a friendly warning also – do remember to be careful not to make any rash movements in the times ahead. My status as Light or Dark notwithstanding, the Dark Lord is a very powerful and dangerous man with very powerful and dangerous allies. It would not be wise to anger him unnecessarily."

He turned away then and continued his walk to the fireplaces.

"I'll be watching you Malfoy," she called after him. "You can be sure of that!"

Lucius smirked and turned around to face her once more. "Then I hope you like what you see, Madame," he called back, giving her a smooth, aristocratic bow as he did so. He saw her jaw tighten as she gritted her teeth and he chuckled to himself.

Just a few minutes later, and with a flash of green fire, he was gone from her sight. Amelia Bones stood for a long time in the Entrance Hall to the Ministry of Magic staring after him, wondering all the while what on earth that man was hiding that made him so sure of himself in such dangerous times.

"Bastard," she hissed eventually before she turned to stalk back to her office. She had some paperwork to do.

HPLV

Harry laughed as he walked with the wereleopards through the Dark Lord's gardens. They were a pretty friendly bunch when you got to know them, and as most of them were on the right side of crazy, they would probably fit in with the Death Eaters well if they agreed to the alliance. Fred and George seemed to be enjoying the company as well, and they were no doubt plotting some pranks with Laura and Lauren who were by far the most mischievous of the group.

"So…how long have you and Ari been dating?" he asked Chris who was walking alongside him. Chris started laughing, loudly, and Ari glanced over her shoulder with a small frown.

"How come everyone asks that?" she asked crossly, before grinning at Harry to show that she didn't mean to be harsh. "We're friends," she explained. "He's like a younger brother to me…and his girlfriend's a human anyway."

"Oh," Harry said, blushing slightly. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Chris assured him once he had stopped laughing. "Loads of people make the same mistake. Really. Just don't make it again, because me and Ari together would be more than a little bit gross."

"I don't date men who are girlier than I am," Ari said, not even bothering to look back this time. "So we'd be totally incompatible from the start."

Harry grinned. It had taken him a while to get used to Ari's behaviour. She was a lot less friendly than the others at first glance, and she was cold, callous and pretty arrogant. However, when she relaxed, she had a sarcastic sense of humour that reminded Harry strongly of his father. He felt safe around her too.

On the contrary, Lewis was definitely the most antisocial out of all of them. He only really talked to Laura and Mia, who he seemed to fancy, but didn't seem to get on with any of the others.

"So which of you is alpha?" he asked. "I've been trying to work it out all day but…"

"You're used to wolves, aren't you?" Mia asked, walking slightly quicker so that she could walk beside Harry on the opposite side from Chris. She was small, pretty and blonde, with a thick Slavic accent that Harry couldn't place to any specific country.

"Yes," he admitted. "One of my fathers is the alpha of the Greyback Pack."

"Well," Mia continued. "We leopards aren't all that different. The strongest in the pack is our alpha."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I see," he said slowly. "And how am I supposed to divine your alpha from that?"

"You're meant to guess," Ari told him, turning to face him so that she was walking backwards. "We're a tad on the paranoid side, you see, and it would be very easy for you wizards to control the whole pack by controlling the alpha."

"We want a consensual alliance, you know," Harry told her. "Not one that was created through force or the Imperius Curse."

It was the truth, and it was also why Voldemort had deliberately asked him to find out which of them was the alpha in their pack. It would be a lot easier to get them to agree to an alliance if he knew which of them he had to spend the most time convincing.

Ari tilted her head to one side and smiled at him. "Then maybe we'll be able to tell you one day," she said. "But before that, all of us have to trust you. Especially our alpha."

Harry nodded. She turned back around and quickened her pace so that she could join Laura and Lauren with Fred and George. Harry looked after her thoughtfully before turning his gaze to each of the wereleopards in turn. Any of them could be alpha, if he was honest with himself, which meant that the task before him was going to be a lot harder than he had previously thought. However, he decided, it was going to be a lot of fun.

"We'd better stop Ari from giving any input to their schemes," Chris told him. "I swear that girl can be evil sometimes."

Harry grinned. "Sounds like she'll fit right in then."


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from the writing of this story. Jericho and the wereleopards belong to me.

AN: If this chapter seems rushed in any way to you then I apologise. I'm trying to move this story on at the moment so that it won't get too boring. /grins/ I can't believe how long this story is getting, or how many reviews it's got. I feel really proud of it, so thank you. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Don't forget to review when you're done.

Red Sun Rising

by Evandar

Chapter 20

It had been a month since they had first arrived, and Harry was still no closer to finding out which of the wereleopards was the alpha. However, despite that, he knew that he had found real friends in the group, and that was his report to Voldemort. The Dark Lord was slightly disappointed that Harry hadn't been able to discover the alpha after spending a month with the small pack, but he knew from his own interaction with the group of young lycanthropes that they were all very good at keeping their secrets.

Fenrir had been the one to fully explain their behaviour. Even though he was openly the leader of his own pack, he could understand why the wereleopards were so determined to mask their alpha's identity. They were a tiny pack in comparison to the Greyback pack, and the easiest way to bring a pack down is to kill the alpha. By hiding their alpha then any opposition would have to face off against all of them, and that gave the alpha a greater chance of survival as well as making it more likely that the threat to the pack would be defeated. As their pack was so tiny, and their species so rare, it was a good strategy.

In the end, Voldemort had to meet with them without having gained much information on the pack. He had no choice: he couldn't keep the wereleopards away from their territory for much longer.

The meeting was held in Voldemort's office with Harry, Fenrir, Jericho and Lucius all present as representatives of the Dark Side. They sat comfortably on sofas and chairs that Voldemort had conjured for the occasion: he had heard from Harry that the wereleopards never did anything formally.

They were a mixed bunch, appearance wise. Laura was the first of them to enter the office, followed by Lewis, Chris, Ari, Mia and last of all Lauren. Harry couldn't help but grin when he saw Ari: she had clearly made an effort to look good for the meeting in that she had brushed her hair that morning even though she still looked half asleep.

"Good morning," Voldemort greeted them, receiving a mumbled "morning" in return. Chris waved happily before flopping down on the couch next to Ari, and then scooting closer to her as Laura sat on his other side.

"I hope you have enjoyed your stay," Voldemort continued.

"It's been great," Laura said, giving him a bright smile. "Your manor is lovely."

"Thank you."

Harry looked up at the tone in his fiancée's voice. It seemed that Voldemort genuinely felt gratitude for the compliment, as well as something else. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Jericho roll his eyes slightly and smirk, and he knew that his father had seen it too. Voldemort thought that Laura was the alpha.

Out of all of them, Harry had to admit that Laura certainly acted the most obvious. It was clear that the others in the pack deferred to her to some extent, although that was partially due, no doubt, to her loud and bubbly personality. But there was something else: the way that she was so clearly infatuated with Lewis, the sullen blonde wereleopard, was a definite weakness that would have been hidden if she was really the alpha.

"So," Chris said, shattering the silence that had fallen on the room. "Shall we get on with it then?"

"Of course," Voldemort agreed, nodding at the dark haired male. "Do any of you have any questions?"

"Will you be continuing with the Ministry's…delightful tradition of making all lycanthropes infertile?" Ari asked.

Fenrir raised an eyebrow at that. "You mean that they haven't got you already?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I was too young when they went on the last sweep. Then the war started up again and the Ministry seemed to forget all about it. Lauren and Mia escaped too."

Harry looked at the others. Chris was staring at his knees and looking incredibly uncomfortable; Lewis was glaring moodily at the carpet; Laura had seemingly glazed over. He couldn't imagine what that felt like, to have all chances of having a child stripped from you while you were just a child yourself.

"I wasn't planning on it, no," Voldemort said softly. "I was planning on letting were-beings live as normal people now that potions have been developed that suppress the effects of the condition."

"You think this is a disease?" Lewis asked. He sounded incredibly unfriendly and Voldemort's eyes narrowed at the tone in his voice.

"Lewis…" Chris said warningly. "Whether he thinks it's a disease or not doesn't matter; it's what he plans to do with people like us that counts."

Lewis shrugged. "Whatever."

"Oh stop being such a jackass," Ari snapped, rolling her eyes. She grinned over at Voldemort. "He's bitter because he's a delta were."

'Ah,' Harry thought. 'Well that's one position worked out.'

Pack hierarchy was very ordered. At the top there was the alpha: the most powerful lycanthrope in the pack. Occasionally the position was hereditary, such as in Remus' case as he was Fenrir's successor, but most times, pack members fought among themselves for the position. Next there were the betas, who made up what would have been – if it weren't for Ministry mandates – the main breeding part of the pack. At the bottom were deltas who were the pack's muscle. Looking at Lewis now that he knew his position in the pack made a lot of sense. It certainly explained why he was so hostile: a low pack position for a male in a pack filled with girls would be a major blow to the ego for such a vain guy.

It was now looking more and more likely that one of the girls was the alpha. Harry smiled to himself: in all his dealings with were-packs, this would be the first time he'd come across a female alpha. They weren't common, due to males generally having greater body strength, so most female lycanthropes ended up as betas as the highest.

A quick glance at the others in the room told him that his father, Fenrir and Voldemort had all come to the same conclusion. It was nothing against Chris personally, but he was the only one of the wereleopards that Harry couldn't see as an alpha: he was far too insecure in himself, and this pack was too strong for an alpha with insecurities.

"I take it that cross-species relationships are also allowed," Ari said, eyeing Jericho and Fenrir as she spoke.

"Of course," Voldemort admitted.

"And what about Muggleborn weres?" Mia asked. "Do they get the same rights as Wizardborns?"

"Are they still lycanthropes?" Voldemort asked.

Mia frowned. "Yes."

"Then yes they do as long as they bring no risk of exposure to the Wizarding world," Voldemort told her.

Mia gave a harsh laugh. "Most of us are disowned as soon as we start going furry once a month," she said.

They didn't have all that many questions really and the rest of the morning was spent hashing out the finer details of an alliance contract, and in engaging in small talk. It was during that morning, while she was adding her signature to the contract that Harry noticed a ring on Ari's left little finger. It was gold, with the metal set in a leaf-like design around seven amethysts that made up the shape of a flower. It was very pretty and very…well, it just didn't really look right on her with her jeans and baggy T-Shirt: it looked like it belonged to a rich, well-dressed and sophisticated woman.

"I like your ring," he commented quietly.

"Huh?" she looked up at him, confused for a moment before she realised what he was talking about. "Oh, right. That. I keep forgetting that I'm wearing it."

Laura snickered and muttered something about "no romantic spirit" as she took the contract from her pack-mate. At Harry's confused look and with Voldemort himself looking at her curiously, Ari sighed softly. She shifted awkwardly.

"It's an engagement ring," she explained.

Harry grinned. "Congratulations!"

Her only response was to blush faintly and look away. Harry smiled. He hadn't thought that Ari was the type for marriage; Laura probably was, but not Ari. She was too…detached from the rest of the world. But he was happy for her, even if she didn't want to talk about it.

There was too little happiness in the world.

HPLV

Draco had woken up to the sight of long dark hair spread over his pillow and the smooth, chocolate-coloured features of his boyfriend. It was a good start to the morning, and Draco had become accustomed to the sight. With Umbridge's hold on the school tightening, he had developed a need to start his days like this: safe in Blaise's arms and in Blaise's bed. It was fortunate that Blaise seemed to share the inclination.

But by breakfast, Draco's good mood had been ruined. Another Ministry Mandate had been passed that restricted mail entering and leaving the school, and to make matters worse, someone in the Ministry had leaked: the Minister had ordered Aurors to hunt down all Death Eaters. It was a risky move, but Draco had a feeling that the leak had been planned. It had definitely made a lot of the students look nervous, although it could be construed as excitement over the way that the war was progressing so quickly. Draco knew better. He had contact with most of the Dark supporters in the school as part of a large network hidden even from the teachers, and he could safely say that most of those students were looking very uncomfortable.

Under the breakfast table, Blaise was holding his hand, his slender fingers wrapped around Draco's own in a tender and loving gesture. It was comforting…reassuring to know that Blaise was there for him and would be for as long as he was able, especially when the world was going insane all around them. Draco knew that his father was going to be under investigation, and there were skeletons in the Malfoy family closet that could not be disturbed.

Draco could feel someone watching him. He glanced slowly around the hall until his eyes met those of his Potions professor. Snape looked calm, almost too calm for someone with a Dark Mark tattooed on his arm. Draco's eyes narrowed slightly and he looked away. Snape was a good Slytherin: he would incriminate anyone if it meant that he would be saving his own skin, and Draco didn't trust him enough to put a betrayal of the Dark Order past him.

Draco wondered why on earth his father enjoyed these games. For him, they were far too stressful, and he couldn't stand playing them. Oh, it was fine on a school boy level when he was messing with the minds of his fellow students, but now he was playing against people who were a lot older, and a lot more experienced than him. It was risky, but it was a risk that he had to take, and not just for the sake of his own pride, but for the entire Dark Order. Voldemort's regime would die without young supporters, and Draco was in a position to protect them.

And he would do it, despite the threat of a lifetime in Azkaban that loomed over him.

He had to. Draco let a slow breath escape through his lips as he turned away from Snape and back to his breakfast. He wished that this situation didn't have to be so damned hard.

Blaise's fingers tightened briefly around his own and Draco found himself relaxing slightly. They didn't talk; nothing needed to be said.

HPLV

Two days later, Harry knocked on the door to the room where the female wereleopards had been staying. They were busy packing at that moment, but Harry still wanted to talk to them. It was Mia who opened the door. She was wearing jeans with a short, floral-print dress over the top. She greeted him brightly and let him in.

Lauren was dancing slightly as she packed, and singing along to the Japanese song. Her clothes were being bundled up and shoved into a large backpack. Laura, on the other hand, was neatly rolling her clothes up. Harry didn't see Ari at first, but then he realised that she was lazing on the bed, mostly hidden by her packed suitcase. Her head was hanging over the edge of the mattress, and she was watching over the top of a book.

"Uh, hi," he greeted them all. "How are you getting on?"

"Okay," Mia admitted as she crossed over to her own suitcase. "We'll be out of your hair in a couple of hours, I think. We'll have to go and bully the boys into getting ready soon."

Harry chuckled.

Laura looked up at him, a grey T-Shirt in her hands. "Did you want something Harry?"

"Uh," he looked embarrassed. "I wanted to talk to Ari, actually."

Ari groaned softly as she sat up. "Well, I'm packed so…I'll go and kick the guys out of bed. You can talk to me on the way there."

Lauren gave a little wave as she rooted through a pile of clothing for the rest of her things, scolding Mia loudly for getting their things mixed up.

Outside of the door, Ari turned to him. "What?" she asked.

Harry flinched slightly. He had never really gotten over Ari's blunt attitude to everything. She either completely lacked tact and empathy, or she didn't care enough about other people to exercise them. It made for entertainment when she was talking to other people, but when faced with the brunt of her attitude, it could be a little difficult.

"I was wondering," he said quietly, "how you coped with being engaged."

She stared at him. "That's a bloody stupid thing to ask," she said. She sighed softly and ran her fingers through her messy hair. "It's Voldemort, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

"And you love him, don't you?"

Harry nodded again. She glared at him.

"Then why the hell are you wasting my time by asking me how to cope with it? If you love him and want to be with him then that's what matters. You don't have to rush a wedding, and you don't have to get all tied up in knots just because he proposed. Relax."

Harry smiled slightly. "You're right, I guess."

"Of course I'm right," she muttered. "Though that begs the question: why the hell did you ask _me_ in the first place? Laura's the mushy, romantic one."

"You're engaged," Harry pointed out.

She glanced down at her left hand and grinned, revealing long, sharp canine teeth. The full moon was approaching and all of the lycanthropes in the manor were showing signs of the upcoming change.

"Neither JP or I are big on romance," she said calmly. "We don't do chocolates and flowers and" – she shuddered – "Valentine's Day. We can love each other without all that."

"JP?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. He knew it had to be her fiancée, but it was the first time she – or any of the wereleopards – had mentioned him by anything close to a name.

"It stands for Joao Paulo," she said. "He's a Portuguese wizard."

"Oh."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "You're quite the curious one, aren't you," she said.

Harry shrugged. "You hardly mention him."

"What's the point?" she asked. "He isn't here, and I don't particularly like advertising my love life. He's not a wereleopard either, so he has nothing to do with the contract. And besides, if cross-species relationships were one of the Dark Lord's dislikes, then your parents wouldn't be in such a high position in the ranks of the dark Order, despite the position they hold among there own kind.

"Joao's a Dark supporter but he doesn't want to be a Death Eater because he's not into killing - or body art, for that matter – so why bring him up?"

Harry nodded. He could see her point, and she was right. They had reached the male wereleopards' room, and they could both hear the snoring through the door. Just as Ari reached for the door handle so that she could wake them up, Harry thought of something else to ask her.

"Do I get to know who your alpha is?" he asked, a small smile playing over his lips.

Ari shot him a wicked grin. "Who do you think it is?"

She didn't give Harry a chance to reply before she slipped through the door. Harry shook his head silently and left them to their own business. He paused half way down the corridor when a yelp reached his ears, soon followed by shouting. It appeared that Lewis hadn't liked his wake up call.

HPLV

After the wereleopards had gone the manor seemed so much more peaceful. Harry was sitting with Voldemort and helping him out with his paperwork in companionable silence. He had only seen them off half an hour ago, but already it seemed like a lifetime.

He glanced over at Voldemort, taking in the older man's profile with loving eyes. He had been worried about their relationship before and the speed with which it was progressing, but Ari had been right: he just needed to relax.

'Everything's going to work out fine,' he thought. 'Everything.'

He jerked back to reality when he felt long, cool fingers wrap around his hand. He glanced over at Voldemort, who was concentrating on the field report he was reading, and smiled.

_Everything._


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I never will. I am writing this story for entertainment purposes only; no profit is being made, and no infringement is intended.

AN: Er…wow. I really like this chapter, and I mean _really_ like this chapter. It literally just poured out of me in a wave of inspiration, which is probably how it ended up as one of the longest chapters I've ever written (the longer ones were part of my NaNoWriMo, but the less said about that, the better).

At any rate, I hope you enjoy it too. Please review and tell me what you think.

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 21

The Daily Prophet had only announced officially what the Dark Lord, his Death Eaters, and the Ministry had known for months. The war between them had officially started, and now was the Light's last chance to regain complete control over the Wizarding world. Unfortunately for them, however, Voldemort was not planning on letting that happen.

Amelia Bones had always known that the Dark Lord would not go down without a fight, and she had openly disagreed with the Minister's decision to split the Aurors and Unspeakables up into small teams before sending them out looking for Death Eaters without even a proper briefing. She would have done something about it – she was the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, after all – but even she had to bow down to the Minister and his misguided whims.

'He knows how to win an electoral campaign,' she thought bitterly. 'But he has no idea how to win a war.'

There was talk of conscripting Hogwarts Seventh and Sixth Years to make up for their now rapidly depleting numbers in the Auror ranks, but Amelia knew that there was no way that that would work. Not only would the moral outrage amongst the general public be enough to send the Minister scurrying for cover in some agonisingly exotic location, but the students would all be so green that they would be totally useless in any sort of fight against the Dark Lord and his, admittedly very well trained, Death Eaters.

There was a soft knock on her office door and she looked up from the piles of highly depressing paperwork that covered her desk, glad for a distraction. That gladness faded somewhat when she saw that her visitor was none other than Lucius Malfoy. He eyed her papers with a critical gaze and sat himself down – uninvited – in the chair on the other side of her desk.

He looked, she was loathe to admit, absolutely gorgeous, dressed as he was in light green summer robes with his long blonde hair flowing loose to the middle of his back. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering whether the Malfoys were as pure-blooded as they claimed to be. However, with their medical and historical documents fiercely guarded by the French Ministry – something about having to protect their oldest and wealthiest Wizarding family's interests – there was absolutely nothing she could do to prove her suspicions. She had tried, repeatedly to find a way through the maze of red tape that the Malfoys hid their 'interests' behind, but to no avail. She suspected that it had something to do with Lucius' cousin, one Eduard Malfois, being the French Minister of Magic.

"It's not going too well, is it," Malfoy said calmly.

There was no doubt in her mind as to what 'it' referred to: the war. 'It' couldn't really be anything else. What she did note, however, was the total lack of sympathy in his voice.

"No," she admitted. She might not like the man, and they were probably on very different sides in the war, but Malfoy had a level head on his shoulders and a hatred for the Minister that rivalled her own. "The orders that went out were the Minister's; not mine. He disregarded my advice entirely, and now most, if not all of the Aurors are in a level of danger that could have been avoided somewhat."

"I see," Lucius mused. "I thought that might have been the case. And, of course, you couldn't override those orders, seeing as they came from someone in a higher position than you."

"Exactly." Amelia sighed and propped her head up on her right hand. "So _I'm_ left doing the paperwork and trying to keep up morale after this – pardon my French – fuck up of tremendous proportions."

Malfoy grinned. The expression reminded her, briefly, of a vampire she had once met, but she pushed the thought from her mind. Knowing Malfoy, he could probably smell fear, or something.

"A waste of your talents," Malfoy purred. "I'm sure that the Dark Lord would be far more concerned if it were your decisions that he had to deal with. As it is…"

"It's looking more and more likely that he'll get an easy victory," she finished. Malfoy nodded; she sighed again. "We all know that. Anyone with half a brain can see it, but I have to try and stop my Aurors from paying too much attention to it."

"Are you afraid of defection?" he asked.

She didn't answer. Instead she changed the subject, remembering in time an article that had graced the Prophet's pages just days before the war was officially announced. "You're looking remarkably well for a man going through a divorce," she said.

He gave one of those Gallic shrugs that always got her back up and waved a hand. "Shouldn't I?" he asked. "Escaping from a loveless, arranged marriage is hardly a hardship."

"What does your son think?" she asked.

"He supports the decision," Malfoy answered. "He never really got on with his mother."

"Really? You always gave off an air of such…solidarity."

Malfoy smirked. "It would be unseemly and inappropriate conduct to ever do anything else, Madame. I like to think that I taught Draco better than to air his dirty laundry in public, like so many people are willing to do these days just to gain media attention."

It was a blatant snub to the misadventures of the Minister's daughter that had made the cover of Witch Weekly just a week before, and the reference brought a smile to Amelia's face. She had read the article out of curiosity, although the captions promising an article on adultery, drugs and a rather shocking incident with a Hippogryph had said enough. In all honesty, with that and then the war on top of it, Amelia was amazed that the Minister wasn't holed up in the Seychelles for the foreseeable future.

"What did you come here for, Lucius?" she asked.

"I came to see if you were firm in your politics," he answered.

Her breath hitched. It was brutal honesty from a man whom she had always thought lied out of habit: an unexpected move that made her chest restrict painfully. He looked up at her through his long, pale lashes, and she was struck – not for the first time – at how young Lucius looked. He appeared to be barely out of his twenties, despite being in his forties.

"I am," she said. Her voice was firm. "I might not like the Minister; I hate him, in fact, for what he's done, but I cannot abandon my morals."

"I see," Lucius said. He bowed his head in acknowledgement to her wishes and stood, smoothing down his robes as he did so. "Then I wish you the best of luck, Amelia."

"You too Lucius," she replied. "You know, you aren't so bad for a Death Eater."

He laughed as he left, turning at the door to give her a salute. She returned it, a grim smile of satisfaction stretching her features. At least she knew now without a doubt, where his loyalties lay.

She looked down at her paperwork. 'Damn,' she thought. 'Yet another confirmed, and competent, opponent to go up against.'

HPLV

The Dark Lord was not the type of man to send his followers into a battle only to stay at home and curl up with a book while they fought and died for his cause. He believed that part of being a good leader was to be there with them through all the bloodshed and losses, as well as the victories. It was one of the reasons why he had so many followers.

Likewise, Harry was not the kind of person to sit back and let his fiancée do all the work. He had done during the confrontation with the Order of the Phoenix because of the risk that he could be captured again, but when he heard that Voldemort was going to fight one of the larger groups of Aurors, that happened to be headed straight for them from the North – the wereleopard territory - he put his foot down.

Voldemort could still hear Harry's voice. _"I love you, and I'm marrying you, but there is no way in hell that I'm going to be your fucking housewife."_

The boy had certainly got his point across. He was now dressing for battle in dragon hide armour under a blood red cloak that would match Voldemort's and distinguish him from the Death Eaters and the Aurors. It would make it far easier for Voldemort to keep an eye on him.

Not that Harry couldn't take care of himself, of course. Voldemort got the feeling that he had massively underestimated Harry's skills in the field after the Battle on the Platform. Fair enough the boy had collapsed, but he had also been under massive stress for a prolonged period of time, and had used up a lot of magical energy by transforming into his vampiric state.

Put logically, Harry's abilities had been tempered by the extreme situation he had been in at the time. The boy had grown up in the roughest area of magical London, and had been raised by a Vampire Lord and an alpha werewolf. There was no way that he was going to be weak, especially when Vesper's blood ran through his veins. In fact, the sweet disposition he usually showed – especially when he was around Voldemort – was no doubt in part a camouflage for a far more complex and violently inclined personality. Just the thought of it sent shivers running up Voldemort's spine. Had Vesper realised what a perfect match they would be when he first set this deal up?

Voldemort finished lacing up his boots and stood. He swung his blood-coloured cloak around his shoulders, and inspected his reflection in the mirror.

"You look great," said a familiar voice from the doorway. It was Harry. The sight of him made a warm feeling spread through Voldemort's stomach, and the Dark Lord smiled at him gently.

"So do you," he said.

Harry grinned and crossed over the room to stand by Voldemort's side. He looked around interestedly. "I've never been in your room before," he commented. "It's nice. Very green."

"I like green," Voldemort said defensively.

"I wasn't complaining," Harry pointed out. He looked up at Voldemort, an impish smile on his face. He reached up and took hold of the collar of Voldemort's robe before pulling the older man down into a kiss. Voldemort reacted instantly, gripping Harry's hips and pulling the boy's body against his own, forcing a gasp from between Harry's lips. The kiss deepened, and Harry moaned into Voldemort's mouth as his hands buried themselves in Voldemort's wavy black hair.

A cough brought them back to reality. Voldemort looked up to see a very awkward looking Death Eater standing in the doorway next to Vesper, who looked far too amused for a person who had just seen his son in a clinch with a man three times his age. The Death Eater's urge to flee couldn't quite be hidden by his mask, and Voldemort could see the man's dark eyes flicking towards the corridor. He smirked and straightened his hair and robes with a quick glance in the mirror to check his reflection when he was done.

By his side, Harry mumbled something about vanity, which Voldemort diplomatically ignored.

"Did you contact the leopard brats?" he asked Vesper.

The vampire tilted his head to one side. "Of course," he said smoothly. "You shouldn't need to ask, by now."

"Good," Voldemort said. He swept out of the room and down the corridor, the Death Eater following him nervously. The scurrying walk gave him away: Pettigrew, the useless idiot. Harry and Vesper followed at a more leisurely pace.

Just minutes later, Voldemort's stronghold was empty.

HPLV

It was good to see them again, Harry realised. It hadn't been long since the wereleopards had left, but he had missed them, although the setting of their reunion was lacking somewhat. The first thing Harry had seen after Apparating onto the battlefield had been a half-transformed Lewis carving up an Auror into small and very bloody pieces.

Apparently, the Aurors had not been expecting to be engaged in battle by a small group of very vicious teenaged lycanthropes. Their hexes were proving mostly ineffective against the wereleopards, but now the Aurors had a bigger problem to deal with: the majority of Voldemort's forces, along with the Dark Lord himself, having just Apparated in to the fray.

Harry could see his fathers fighting back to back, Jericho's Dark magic the perfect match to Fenrir's sheer brute strength and deadly claws. Harry brought his own wand up to kill an Auror who had been advancing on him. The vampire blood in Harry's body activated its powers and suddenly the world seemed so much brighter, the scents so much clearer. He felt his fangs lengthening in his mouth and he grinned wickedly.

To Voldemort, Harry in battle was a beautiful thing. His arms and legs blurred as he lashed out at the Aurors at a speed that was too great for the human eye to keep up with. They fell all around him: those hit with his claws and those hit with a myriad of curses all found death quickly at Harry's hands. Reassured that his young fiancée was more than capable of taking care of himself, Voldemort turned his full attention to the battle around him and the advancing Aurors.

It seemed like he had been fighting for ages by the time Harry came across Ari. She was the most human looking of all the lycanthropes on the field, excluding Fenrir – but then, Fenrir always looked wolf-like – and Remus. She shot him a grin in greeting, flashing long white fangs that should have belonged to a far more deadly animal than a teenage girl, ignoring the Auror whose heart she had just ripped out of his chest. He grinned back and stayed by her side, his wand movements little more than a blur due to his enhanced speed.

Another teenager joined them. Harry took in the fact that he was dressed as a Muggle, that he had a wand and that Ari didn't mind his presence before turning his attention to more important things, like the battle and the approaching Aurors. They had called for back up. Together, Harry, Ari and the other teen formed a triangular formation, guarding each others' backs in perfect tandem.

The battle was long and bloody, and afterwards, as Harry gazed across the sea of blood-covered bodies, his eyes automatically picking out the black robes of the Death Eaters, he felt empty.

"It's great when the adrenaline is keeping you going," Ari said quietly. She was standing just behind him, looking at the scene from over his shoulder. "But afterwards, when the reality hits, you realise that there is no real glory in battle."

"Why are you so wise?" Harry asked.

"I'm more world-weary than wise," she corrected him. "But I listen to what my heart tells me. I fight because I'm fighting for the people who need me, but I don't enjoy it. That is why Lewis, for all his strength, could never have been our alpha."

"And why you are," Harry said.

She was quiet for a moment, but then he felt a warm hand press against his lower back. He turned to look at her, only to see that her eyes had returned to their usual hazel colour. She was smiling at him.

"I'm the alpha for lots of reasons," she admitted. "But that's one of them."

The boy who had joined them part way through the battle was grinning. He didn't look directly at Harry though; instead he was looking slightly down and to the left. Taking his appearance in more detail, Harry came to the conclusion that he was slightly eccentric.

Noting where Harry's gaze had strayed to, Ari glanced over her shoulder and smiled. She turned back to Harry and explained. "This is JP," she said. "Don't expect a 'hello': he doesn't talk much unless he's very, very drunk. JP, this is Harry."

JP raised a hand in greeting, glancing at Harry only briefly before looking away again.

"Uh, hi," Harry said. He looked uncertainly at Ari, who shrugged.

"It's normal behaviour," she told him. "He's under the impression that he's a boring twat with nothing interesting to say, which, unless you like Muggle computer games, Dark Magic and archaeology is probably true."

'Okay…' Harry thought.

He wondered about Ari's taste in men for a moment before remembering that he was engaged to a man who had once tried to kill him and was currently engaged in the task of taking over the Wizarding world. That was when he decided that it would be pretty damn hypocritical to start pointing fingers.

And besides, to land Ari, he had to have _some_ hidden qualities.

They set off across the battlefield together, towards where the remaining Death Eaters were gathering around the Dark Lord. As they approached, the Death Eaters stared at the Muggle clothes that Ari and JP were wearing, but they wisely said nothing. The other wereleopards were with them, Chris pressing a bunched up T-Shirt against a gash in Laura's arm and a fully transformed Lewis was being watched closely by Lauren and Mia – who had a fine covering of black-spotted white fur over her body - in case he made any moves towards the humans present.

Seeing Ari, the large leopard stilled in his pacing. He growled softly, and she growled right back, making his ears flatten against his skull and the muscles in his back twitch nervously beneath his thick, spotted pelt.

Harry couldn't believe that he'd missed this: missed the deference that the other wereleopards showed towards Ari. Yes, they were all friends, and they worked together as a good team, but deep down, the other wereleopards feared her. It was no wonder that, like Fenrir, she had chosen a mate outside of her own species. It did make Harry think: female alphas were rare, and so to get and to have kept her position, Ari must be a considerably more formidable opponent than she gave the impression of being.

Something his father had once told him surfaced in Harry's mind. _"The best defence is a good offence, but making your opponent think that you are less than what you are comes as a close second."_

To do that so well…Harry was suddenly very glad that Ari and her pack were on their side.

HPLV

They had left the Aurors to rot on the battlefield, although their corpses had probably been collected by the Ministry not long after the Dark Order had left.

The funeral was huge. Harry didn't need to look around to know that the whole of Voldemort's forces, as well as a good portion of his allies were present. He could also feel eyes burning into his back. He hadn't been formally introduced to a lot of the Death Eaters, and they were probably wondering who on earth the small, dark-haired boy on Voldemort's right-hand side could be. It was, after all, a position that was supposed to go to his second-in-command, but Lucius was on Voldemort's left.

Harry ignored the stares as best he could during the ceremony. He had been expecting them, after all. However, he was aware that he was getting considerably less stares than Arthur Weasley, who was standing next to Lucius and looking extremely nervous about it. Voldemort had given Harry something that could have been construed as a reason for it before they had gone to sit through the ceremony. It had involved Veela and Matches, but Harry hadn't really caught much of it. Now that he'd had time to ponder over it, however, he had realised what it meant. It certainly explained why Lucius Malfoy hadn't appeared to have aged since he hit twenty, and why he looked like a girl…

Still, it was one hell of a weird match. Or was it? Harry could remember Arthur from his 'stay' with the Order of the Phoenix. The red-haired man had been a pleasant companion when he wasn't in the presence of his wife. Harry had got the impression that there was little love in that marriage, at least on Arthur's side. In fact, all of Harry's dealings with Lucius since he had arrived at the Dark Lord's manor had left him strongly reminded of Arthur Weasley. At least Harry now knew the reason why.

After the ceremony, Voldemort had to give a speech. It was one of those semi-motivational, morale-up-keeping things that all political leaders should do, but that most didn't. Now that Voldemort had moved, all eyes were on him. Voldemort gave no indication that the attention bothered him in any way as he stood in front of the gathered Death Eaters and Dark supporters.

"They gave their lives because they believed in a cause; a movement that promised a better and fairer world. For this, they will always be remembered. Let us honour that memory by striving harder to create the world that they died for."

There was applause, of course, and a few more individual speeches were made. Some of them short and to the point like Voldemort's – he never had been one for waffling on endlessly – others longer, that detailed the virtues of the deceased. But for all intents and purposes, the funeral was now over. Harry let his fingers entwine with Voldemort's, but he said nothing. He was curious though, about whether Voldemort was aware of just how morbid it was to be burying his followers in the grounds of his manor. He knew that, as far as the Death Eaters were concerned, it was a position of honour, but it was still pretty…weird.

It was just as weird as it had been for the Light to bury Dumbledore at Hogwarts.

The wake was somewhat more relaxed than Harry had anticipated. It did seem to involve a lot of hand-shaking, though, as he was introduced to more Death Eaters and Dark supporters than he had been aware even existed. Through the milling crowd, he caught sight of Ari and JP, both wearing black robes, standing talking to Adalwolf and Korbinian. He made his way over, Dark Lord in tow, to greet them properly.

The four of them looked up when Harry reached them, and smiled in welcome – JP somewhat nervously. He had the look of someone who wanted desperately to be anywhere else, but Harry suspected that Ari had forced him to come along. She looked different, and it took a moment before Harry realised, with no small amount of shock, that she was wearing a small amount of makeup. Korbinian and Adalwolf, on the other hand, looked the same as always, which Harry found comforting under the circumstances.

"You look tired," Adalwolf said softly, slipping his hand into Harry's.

"You would too, if you'd just been introduced to a good portion of the Wizarding population of the United Kingdom before lunchtime," Harry replied. "Only to discover that lunch, for some reason, involves ice cream in quantities never expected in the home of the Dark Lord."

"It's _good_ ice cream, though," Ari quipped. She looked down at the bowl in her hand. "They had ice cream at the last wake I was at too," she continued. "I think it's something of a tradition. I'm not entirely sure though, since the last one was a Muggle wake, and it involved the somewhat unconventional experience of having to comfort my older brother while he vomited a potent mix of Becks and Vanilla Soft Scoop into his dirty laundry basket."

"Sounds like fun," Harry said dryly.

She grinned. Harry could see why: she had managed to unite Adalwolf and Voldemort in a mix of confusion and amusement. Korbinian had carefully schooled his expression into a mask of politeness, although there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes that suggested that he was laughing his head off on the inside; JP was grinning too, but trying not to look to obvious about it.

"Not to sound disrespectful," she said. "But it was quite. It got me blackmail material that'll last a lifetime."

"You are a very strange little girl," said a voice from behind Harry. It was Jericho, Fenrir by his side.

"Yes," she admitted.

"I am curious though," Voldemort said quietly. "As to what you were doing at a Muggle funeral."

"Just the wake," she corrected. "And my brother is a Squib so he has Muggle friends. So do I: it was too difficult to get me into a magical school, so I was home tutored in magic while going to Muggle schools."

Voldemort nodded. Ari was a case, like so many young lycanthropes, that had been put at a disadvantage by the Ministry's system. Even though she was a witch, there was no way that she could get a magical job because she had no formal qualifications. Instead, she would be forced to live as a Muggle for the rest of her life. She was one of the many who would have benefited had Voldemort won the war when it first started.

One of the yet more who would benefit if he won it now.

HPLV

Harry stood in his bedroom, staring out of the window at the rows of fresh graves and the dark woodland beyond. A couple of lights from the few village houses that peeked out from beyond the trees added a warm, golden glow to a scene illuminated mostly by the cold light of the waxing sickle moon. It was so peaceful that it was hard to believe that it had all been under threat just a few weeks ago.

The Battle of Upper Hangleton, the Daily Prophet had named it, when in truth it had been little more than a massacre.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, not out of cold, but because the realisation that things would get far worse before they won had sent a chill running down his spine. The world had to be destroyed before it was rebuilt, he knew that.

He had been feeling so optimistic after the wereleopards had left, but the battle had forced reality down his throat once more. It had been a bitter pill to swallow. He knew that everything between him and Voldemort would be fine; he had no doubts about that, but it was the rest of the world that would struggle. It was they who would have to find the strength to cope with the change.

Harry's lip curled into a sneer. The people needed to find strength, but they would not find it from their leader. Minister Cornelius Fudge had left the war-stricken climes of England for a family holiday in Australia. It was an insult; not only to his opponents, but to the people he was supposed to be leading.

Harry turned away from the window; the peaceful view spoiled by the turbulent thoughts running through his head. He wouldn't sleep peacefully that night, but the light shining through the crack under his door told him that at least he wasn't going to be the only one.

HPLV

"How dare he," Amelia hissed, her fingers clenching into fists around one of the many pieces of parchment that had littered her desk, crumpling and tearing it beyond all repair. "How _fucking_ dare he do this?"

The aide who had informed her of the Minister's departure to the other side of the globe flinched and shrank back, edging closer towards the doorway in the face of her rage. He mumbled something, no doubt an excuse for his employer, but the words died on his lips.

"Um," he managed to squeak.

"That _bastard_," Amelia raged. "That irresponsible, no-good, slacking bastard."

"Madame Bones!" the aide burst out. "The Minister is…" His words died once more as she levelled the full force of her glare on him.

"Get. Out," she bit out. "Now, before I hex you."

He didn't need telling twice.

Amelia sank down into her chair, her rage leaving her now that she had no one to take it out on but herself. She reached numbly for the bottle of whisky - a particularly fine, single malt Glenfiddich, which she kept in the bottom drawer of her desk. She needed a drink.

A soft noise stilled her movements. She looked up into a pair of startlingly pale grey eyes, and exhaled slowly. She should have expected this.

"Lucius," she said. "Want a drink?"

He raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Alright."

"I suppose you're here to kill me," Amelia said, her voice amazingly calm under the circumstances.

"Well you _are_ the most intelligent of the influential members of the Ministry," Lucius pointed out as she conjured two tumblers.

She snorted. "True enough," she said. "You'll certainly be making things easy for yourselves."

"That's the point," Lucius told her with an expressive wave of his hand. He accepted the whiskey and, after performing a few precursory anti-jinxes on it, he took a sip.

"You know," she said. "I'm almost glad that it's you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

She shook her head. "I've always suspected you, you know. If it wasn't for being a Death Eater then it was for something else…it seems that no matter what, there's some trouble in your trail that I can't pin on you."

"So that's what prompted your investigations into my family history," Lucius mused. "I had wondered."

"Are you going to tell me then?" she asked. "Seeing as how I'm going to be dead in a few minutes, it'll hardly do any harm."

He threw up a privacy ward around the room that was so strong that it made her breath hitch. She took another sip of whiskey. She had always wondered what field of magic that Lucius Malfoy was most talented in, and she had to say that if it wasn't wards and charms, then anyone who came up against him in what he _was_ best at wouldn't have a chance. She could always hope, for the rest of the world, that it was something relatively harmless. Like Herbology, for example, or Divination…not that Malfoy seemed to be the type for either.

"You want to know the big Malfoy secret?" he asked her. She nodded. "We're Veela."

Amelia blinked. Of all the things in the world, she had definitely not been expecting _that_. Although…it did explain a lot, such as how Lucius didn't look all that much older than his fifteen-year-old son.

It also explained the secrecy. Lucius had been at Hogwarts when Veela were still considered to be little more than very attractive animals, and he had entered the Ministry before the laws had been rewritten to include Veela among the list of beings. If it ever got out that he was a Veela, then there was a good chance that he could lose a large portion of his reputation.

"I see," she said. "It's…a bit of a let down actually. I would have thought that it would have been much more brutal than that."

He shrugged elegantly. "I would apologise, but…"

"Tell me what happened to the other members of the Order of the Phoenix," she said.

"Now why do you want to know that?" he asked.

"The body of Arthur Weasley hasn't been found yet," she said. "Nor have the bodies of four of his sons. Arthur was a friend of mine, and I want to know what happened to him."

"I killed his wife," Lucius said. She raised an eyebrow. "I tortured her to death, and I enjoyed it. She…I never hated Arthur, you know. It was always her. _She_ was the one he married, after all."

Lucius cleared his throat and downed the rest of his whiskey. She poured him another, which he anti-jinxed automatically. She remembered something, and smiled. It had made the gossip pages of the Daily Prophet when the heirs to the Malfoy and Weasley clans had started a relationship. Not having been particularly interested at the time – she had just been promoted to Third Auror – she had given it nothing more than a glance.

"He's – Arthur – he's still alive, isn't he," she whispered.

Lucius nodded. "Of course. I pointed out to the Dark Lord that if he had Arthur killed then he would be losing his second in command as well."

"You chose complete monogamy for him?"

"Almost," Lucius said, with a slight grimace. "I do have a son, you know. But yes, I bound myself to Arthur a very long time ago."

"And now?" Amelia asked.

"Surely the papers mentioned that I was divorcing Narcissa so that I could be with someone else," Lucius drawled. "If they didn't then Rita Skeeter is getting awfully lax."

Amelia laughed. It had a hysterical quality to it. "Good grief. What about the boys?"

"Fred and George defected before Arthur did," Lucius told her. "Something about the Light not being particularly fond of incest, from what I gather. They don't know about me yet. I think Arthur is trying to 'lessen the blow' by getting them used to my general presence before telling them that they're getting a step-father and yet another brother.

"I don't know about the oldest two. They're probably still imprisoned, if they haven't been found yet."

"You can't save them?" she asked.

Lucius gave another of those insufferable Gallic shrugs. "I can only help them if they express an interest in joining the Dark Lord, I'm afraid. That's the way things work."

Amelia nodded. She drank the last of her whiskey and set the tumbler down on the desk with a gentle 'clunk'. "Come on then, Malfoy," she said, sounding much braver than she felt. "Get on with it."

Lucius drained his glass and banished it with a flick of his wand. "Very well. It has been a pleasure knowing you, Amelia."

"You too Lucius," she replied, not making a move towards her wand, which lay in full view on her desk. "Maybe…forgive me for being a sentimental idiot in my last moments, but do you think that in another life, we may have been friends?"

He paused. It was funny, she thought, to ask such an intimate question to a man who had his wand pointed at your heart, and who was preparing to kill you.

"Yes," he answered finally. "I think we would have been."

She smiled and leaned back in her chair. "Good."

She barely heard him utter the curse, though she saw the bright green light speeding towards her. Her last thoughts were that at least she was dying like this: at the hands of someone she could respect and who she actually liked to an extent.

"Adieu, Amelia," Lucius murmured as he lowered his wand. "Adieu."


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I make no money from writing this story.

AN: Thank you for all your reviews so far. I would be so honoured to take this Fic to, and over, the thousand review mark. Your support for this story has been amazing, so thank you.

On an entirely different and slightly depressing note, I am saddened to report that _Red Sun Rising_ is beginning to draw to a close. It will certainly be the end of an era! There won't be a sequel, before you ask, though I might write the occasional Fic for the Harry Potter Fandom. Deathly Hallows left me with some serious warm and fuzzies for some minor characters, and it may, _may_ prompt some more ficcage from me after this is done with.

(That's if I manage to ignore the three hundred and seventy Fics I have to write for various LJ challenges at some point.)

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 22

_Dearest Harry,_

_How are you? I hope that you've sorted out your feelings towards your pet Dark Lord. You seemed more confident last time we saw each other, but that was possibly due to the nature of the meeting – a battlefield and a funeral; whatever happened to the blissful teenage years we were promised?_

_I would say that all here is well, but I'm afraid that it is…well, okay, it's fine now, but it hasn't been recently. That didn't make much sense, so I'll explain: my already small pack has just got even smaller. Admittedly Lewis brought his end upon himself by challenging Lauren for her position as my beta, but the blood was quite difficult to get out of the carpet. So difficult, in fact, that we had to change it. I have to admit it wasn't much of a loss to the pack – Lewis; not the carpet – as we are used to getting by with small numbers and there is much less tension, but we will miss the muscle when it comes to territorial disputes._

_Ah…politics…more trouble than it's worth, if you ask me, but I suppose it's just another part of the trials and tribulations of being a leader (albeit a small one in my case)._

_Other than that one internal dispute, we haven't had much trouble up here since the battle. It's been relatively pleasant (except, as always, the weather) actually. We've all being pursuing our separate hobbies, and I've begun planning my wedding – I was somewhat forced into it. As it turns out, people think that I'm incredibly disorganised and that if left to my own devices, I'd leave the planning so late that my mother would have to do the catering and I'd be walking up the aisle in my combats and a T Shirt. They of little faith were right, actually, as that image presents a much more pleasant one than the massive white wedding complete with a dress that looks like a meringue that my future in-laws are rooting for._

_But then, you wouldn't know much about that: you don't have in-laws. You lucky bastard. If my future mother-in-law brings up grandkids one more time then I'm going to ram the heirloom crib right up her arse._

_Again, you wouldn't have that problem, what with you marrying a man._

_I'm going to have to love you and leave you as my Psychology class is coming to an end and I won't have a spare moment later to finish this off. So give my best to Voldemort, don't do anything I wouldn't do and don't get caught doing the stuff that I would._

_Yours,_

_Arisa_

HPLV

_Dear Draco,_

_When you arrive home for the Christmas holidays, you will find that there have been several new additions to our family. I ask you not to be alarmed, and to give me a chance to explain their presence fully._

_All is well here. Continue to do your best in all your subjects and make me proud._

_Your Father_

_P.S. Yes, you are allowed to invite Blaise home for the holidays. I spoke to his father about it and he agrees._

HPLV

Snow swirled down out of the frigid white sky. The wind was making it drift slightly to one side as huge flakes twisted and twirled, obscuring the usual view from Harry's bedroom window. Harry stood, wearing little more than his duvet wrapped around him like a cloak, watching it fall, not caring where it landed. Several of the Death Eaters had been sent out on a raid the previous night, and they had not yet come back. Fenrir had been one of them, and he could feel his father's magic reacting to his worry.

Harry was worried too; everyone was. That was why he was staring out over the grounds and waiting for his father's lover, and all of the other Death Eaters to return.

The swell of magic was drawing closer, so Harry was expecting the soft knock on his door.

"Come in!" he called.

His father opened the door. His body was tense with fear, and his already pale skin looked even paler than usual. He said nothing, instead choosing to simply wrap his arms around Harry's waist and hold the teen close while staring out of the window as well.

Harry risked a glance up at him, and saw that his father's eyes were slightly glazed over, as if he wasn't really seeing anything at all.

"Sometimes I wonder if it was selfish," Jericho murmured. "To bind myself to Fenrir and to die with him and leave you behind."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. His father looked so sad. He knew that his father was old, and that he had spent most of his years as a vampire on his own, and he understood why he wouldn't want to outlive another person he cared about. Instead of speaking, he leaned back against the vampire, cuddling in to the embrace.

"All I can be thankful for now is that you won't be alone anymore," Jericho continued.

"Voldemort," Harry murmured.

"He's good for you," Jericho stated. "And you're good for him."

"I love him."

"I know. I wouldn't be letting you marry him if you didn't."

Harry smiled. He looked back out of the window just in time to see black-cloaked figures appear in the grounds, half obscured by the still falling snow.

"They're back," he said.

HPLV

"In short, it was boring," Greyback finished. He was standing in front of Voldemort's desk, his black cloak slung over one arm, his mask held loosely in one hand. "They aren't even putting up much of a fight anymore. The Ministry's tearing itself apart, and all we need to do is sit back and watch them fall."

"So it would seem," Voldemort agreed smoothly, "although it would be best if we didn't give them a chance to regroup. Lucius, any news?"

"The Wizengamot are asking for Fudge's resignation," Lucius said. "He should be returning from his current hideout, I mean, holiday destination any day now. There will, of course, be a hearing but the Wizengamot are calling for a re-election as soon as possible."

"This could make things difficult," Voldemort mused. "A new Minister – probably one more competent than Fudge, as you couldn't really get any worse – might have a chance of getting the Ministry to work together to fight us. Of course, that transitional period will be an ideal time to bring the Ministry down, but we will have to act quickly and carefully. And Hogwarts, Lucius?"

"Umbridge has cut off nearly all outside contact from the school. Mail is being screened, there are new rules being put in place every day…Draco is not very happy, from what I can tell from his coded messages."

"We must strike at Hogwarts as soon as possible," Voldemort decided. "Once the Ministry has been defeated, it will be the central point for any last resistance we might face. With Umbridge in control, however, it should be fairly easy to get the students to…rebel."

HPLV

Neville Longbottom propped himself up on the green pillows of his boyfriend's bed and fiddled absent-mindedly with the hem of his robes. Theo had invited him down to the Slytherin dorms, yet again, for a long and leisurely chat about everything and nothing in particular. The other boys in the dorm were kind enough to give them the common courtesy of privacy, as usual, as they were expecting more between them than just a 'chat'.

The swollen red of his lips was testament to the fact that more than talking had been going on.

Theo had gone to refill the water pitcher he kept on his bedside table from the drinking water tap in the bathroom, leaving Neville lying silently on his bed, alone with his thoughts.

Neville hated feeling enclosed. He had fallen down a well when he had was five and he had been claustrophobic ever since. It was one of the reasons why he had always loved Hogwarts: the wide open spaces and the freedom that his classes and his studies gave him a feeling of contentment. Recently though, Hogwarts and Umbridge's stifling regime had turned his haven into a prison. He hated it. He hated knowing that he was trapped in a place he had once loved with no way out except that which was offered by the upcoming holiday.

Unfortunately, however, his grandmother had asked him to stay in the school, deeming it to be the safest place for him. She was totally unaware that Neville had fallen to the Dark when he had fallen in love with Theo – she didn't know about Theo either.

But he had to disobey her. He would go mad if he stayed in the school any longer. Theo had been talking about taking Neville home with him; taking him far away from Hogwarts and his grandmother's wishes. The thought of disobeying her like that scared him somewhat, despite the fact that his political allegiances and his choice in lover were betrayals anyway.

But if he had to choose, he would choose his freedom. He would choose to leave Hogwarts.

He looked up when the door to the dormitory opened again. Theo stood in the doorway, his tousled, straight red hair haloed by the bathroom light behind him. Neville smiled lovingly, and Theo smiled back. There was something about Theo that made Neville feel so warm, safe and secure. He loved being with Theo – he loved Theo – and whenever he looked into the Slytherin's warm brown eyes, he knew that every sacrifice he had made, and would make, would be worth it.

HPLV

Arisa Barlow lowered her fountain pen, not bothering to replace the lid. She could feel something…wrong. Hazel eyes flicked from the ink sketch of her fiancée she had been drawing to the window. A tiny movement, a flash of purple robe as someone noticed her sudden attention and ducked out of the way, and Arisa knew what was wrong.

"Fuck," she muttered. They were under attack: the Ministry had found them out.

She stood slowly, keeping an eye on the window, and picked up the knife she used as a letter opener. She crept slowly towards the sheet of glass that separated her from the person outside. There was only one thing on her mind, and that was to protect her tiny pack as much as she could.

She stood just by the window, hiding behind the wall. Waiting…waiting… Yes. She could hear the Auror's heartbeat through the wall of the building. It was slowing down as the man relaxed. He would make his move soon.

She saw the purple robes and long-ish, curling brown hair from the corner of her eye just before she punched her fist through the glass, driving her letter opener into the man's throat. Pulling back, she didn't bother sticking around long enough to watch him collapse to the ground before she ran.

Lauren and Mia were in the lobby, fighting back-to-back. Lauren had a cut on her cheek – made by silver, no doubt, as it wasn't healing – and Mia's lightly tanned skin was beginning to darken where her spots would be. She dashed forward, her fingernails lengthening and sharpening into claws as she ran, and reached her friends just in time to remove the face of an Auror who had been about to hex them.

"Thanks," Lauren snarled, her blue-turned-yellow eyes never leaving her opponent.

"No problem," Ari replied. "Where's everyone else?"

"Laura and Chris are in the kitchen," Mia told her, her words slurred slightly by her long fangs. "JP is in the living room. He…"

She glanced at Ari uncomfortably, briefly, just long enough for Arisa to realise what she had meant. JP was dead.

"Hold on," she hissed. Ari darted out of formation, ducking hexes and silver-coated weapons, making her way to the living room. He was lying there on the hearth rug, an arrow- the head no doubt coated with silver – jutting out of his chest. There was blood pooling round him on the carpet. The smell of it made Ari feel sick, but she tried to ignore the fact that it was her lover who was lying there dead. She had to protect her surviving pack members, no matter the cost.

Crouching down by JP's body, she made short work of finding his wand. She knew how to use it, sort of, but that little knowledge would be enough for now. A tingle shot up her arm when she touched it, binding it to her. She paused before reaching down and closing JP's eyes gently with the hand that wasn't clutching his wand.

"Rest in peace," she murmured. "I'll kill these bastards for you Joao."

She grabbed a photograph off the mantelpiece, one of her and her pack and JP, and held it to her chest as she turned to flee the room. The first Auror she saw died in a flash of green light, and she didn't pause as she went to find her surviving pack mates. Chris had managed to make it to the lobby with Laura, and they were all fighting in a group. Blood covered the floor, not all of it from the Aurors, and Laura was most of the way through a full transformation into her leopard form.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ari spotted some curtains. They had been chosen by her not-so-future mother-in-law, and she had always hated them with a burning passion. She pointed JP's wand at them and muttered "incendio" under her breath. They burst into flames, quite impressively, really, and the dodgy old wards on the manor finally sprung into effect.

No one could Apparate in or out of the manor, the manor was not apart of the Floo network, and the Aurors would be too used to doing things by the rules that the thought of creating a Port Key probably wouldn't occur to them. Fortunately, Ari had no rule book.

"Portus," she hissed, tapping the photograph with the wand as she fought her way through the press of bodies to her pack mates. "Grab on!"

A tugging sensation behind her navel, and the feel of snow under her bare feet told her of their translocation. As soon as they were on solid ground she dropped the photo frame, turned to one side, and threw up all over the Dark Lord's garden. Some distant, coherent part of her mind wondered if Voldemort would be up to having guests over.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no money from the distribution of this story, which is for entertainment purposes only.

AN: Wow. I hadn't realised that JP had so many fans… I've had quite a few people sympathising with Ari, and a few people asking why JP had to die. Well, the truth of the matter is that I only introduced him so that he would die. Harsh, I know, but it's important that Arisa has a wand for the final battle, and I figured that one belonging to someone she loved so much would be suited to her.

As for some of the other stuff you might have been wondering about: Ari and JP were not mated so Ari will live past his death, Ari is a (fairly) important character so she'll stay alive until the last battle, but beyond that I have no idea what to do with her. Suggestions are welcomed, if you want to give me ideas in your reviews, but I can't promise anything.

This chapter, quite literally, took me two hours to write. It just poured out of my fingers. Surprising, considering my recent silence on this Fic. I hope you enjoy the quick update. I'll be away from the internet for quite some time (holidays and an anime convention are valid excuses), so I hope this will make up for that!

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 23

It felt wonderful to have escaped Hogwarts. Draco stood in the Dark Lord's garden, relishing the feel of the cold wind on his face, tugging at his hair, and the sight of the imposing manor house rising up above him. He, along his friends, had all left the school with the intentions of not going back until Umbridge was gone, something that was looking more and more likely by the day.

As he and _most_ of his friends – had to remember not to include Longbottom and Goldstein in this – were the children of Death Eaters, they had been brought to the Dark Lord's manor to stay with the other Death Eaters in a safe and secure stronghold until the worst of the war had passed. Draco, for one, was looking forward to the experience: not only would he be in the lap of luxury with plenty of other like-minded people, but he would also find out what had his father looking so…irritatingly smug and superior and _nauseatingly_ happy.

He hoped that it was something to do with the fact that Arthur Weasley, his father's greatest irritation, had been missing since the attack on the Order of the Phoenix's stronghold. Maybe Weasley Senior had been granted a slow and painful death…

"Come along Draco," his father snapped, interrupting Draco's thoughts of Weasley-death, giving Draco something of a start. "You do not want to keep the Dark Lord waiting, do you?"

"No father. Of course not," Draco responded instantly. By his side, Blaise rolled his eyes, only to be ignored by his boyfriend.

They followed Lucius Malfoy up the path through the snow-covered grounds and up to the house.

Voldemort watched his lieutenant lead a line of children up to his home from his office's second-floor window. He groaned audibly, which drew a small chuckle from his young companion. Harry stood by his side, twisting the end of his long black braid in his fingers.

"Why do teenagers bring it upon themselves to invade my house?" Voldemort asked quietly, redirecting Harry's attention from the small flock winding their way up the snow-covered path.

"Better teenagers than the Ministry," Harry pointed out. "And it's because it's safe here."

"Hmm," Voldemort grunted. He had to agree: Harry was right after all, and the only reason that the wereleopards had come to the manor just a week earlier had been because they had no where else to go. It was similar for the teenaged sons and daughters of his Death Eaters: they could have gone home to their family residences, but with the current political climate it was far safer for them to reside in the Dark Lord's manor.

However, despite it being sensible and common sense, it was still very, very annoying. It was like the damn vampires all over again, except with more hormones.

Admittedly he didn't mind the wereleopards. They were far more subdued than they had been last time, and were grieving the loss of an honorary member of their pack. And despite himself, he felt no small amount of respect for them and their young alpha.

It was the Hogwarts students that he was really worried about. Not least because Harry had confided in him about earlier meetings he had had with Draco Malfoy. It appeared that the two of them had not got off to the best start, not to mention the Malfoy brat had to deal with the introduction of Weasleys into his immediate family.

Speaking of which…

"What do you think we should do with the eldest two Weasley brats?" he asked.

Harry blinked in surprise. "They're still alive?" he asked. "I didn't know that."

Voldemort snorted. It was true that most of the Order of the Phoenix had been killed off since their capture, but after Lucius'…revelation, he had ordered for none of his Death Eaters to touch any of the Weasley children (well, there had been that one incident with Adalwolf and the youngest of Arthur's spawn, but Voldemort hadn't really felt like getting in the way of an angry vampire and his prey, and anyway, he hadn't even known of Lucius' affections for their sire at the time). This had led to Bill and Charlie Weasley being among the few surviving Order members imprisoned in his dungeons.

"I think we should give them the chance to join us, talk with Arthur and Lucius about it, and then see what happens," Harry said after a moment's thought. "They are Arthur's children, after all, and Draco might be improved by a few older brothers."

"He already has those monsters that your father insists on protecting," Voldemort grumbled.

Harry could see why he was so discomforted. The Weasley twins, while loyal to their new cause, got on frighteningly well with Jericho. And not only him but Sirius and Remus - two other notorious pranksters - and their new step-father-to-be Lucius…once they had gotten over the shock of their father's relationship with him. The number of humorous accidents and pranks around the manor had increased exponentially since their arrival, and the only people who had remained un-pranked were Voldemort and Harry – both of whom scared the twins somewhat – while everyone else was fair game.

"Bill and Charlie are calmer than the twins," Harry said reassuringly. "And they're both quite powerful wizards, if I remember. Didn't they take out Dolohov, Yaxley and Herpsus during the raid?"

Voldemort nodded. "Very well, I'll talk to Lucius and Arthur," he said. "We'll need all the fighters we can get soon."

Harry's stomach flipped nervously. Voldemort was referring to his grand plan, the one that he had announced just yesterday to his most trusted advisors. They would be attacking both Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic at the same time in order to destroy the Light's last major strongholds in one fell swoop. After that, any resistance would be easy to tackle with rebel forces – if there were any left – spread out in small groups across the country, unable to band together and create a real threat to the Dark Lord's power.

It was a good plan that, if carried out successfully, would ensure their victory. If it went wrong, however, then the Dark would suffer greatly, and that was what Harry feared. He didn't want his friends and family to suffer any more than they already had. He knew that they had to fight to get the world that they wanted, but he didn't want to think about the risks.

He didn't want to be left in the same situation as Ari, with the man he loved dead.

HPLV

_After the night he died  
I wept my tears until they dried  
But the pain stayed the same  
I didn't want him to die all in vain  
I made a promise to revenge his soul in time  
I'll make them bleed down at my feet_

Arisa sat quietly in her room, watching as a small group of people approached the house. Her pack was avoiding her, and she wasn't sure that she disliked that fact. She knew it was because they didn't want to risk angering her and her temper had been frayed ever since…since…

She snarled silently, her lips curling back to reveal teeth more pointed than usual. She could feel her inner leopard screaming at her to do something, either to end the lives of every Auror in the country or kill herself. She tried to ignore it, but it was so hard. Too hard.

She leaned her head against the cold glass, and tried to ignore the possibility that she was going feral. She couldn't do that to her pack. She couldn't let the grief consume her that much.

Harry had visited her every day. Sometimes he spoke; most of the time he didn't. He would just sit by her side, a comforting presence in her self pity. She had screamed at him and cried on him a few times, and had been faced with nothing in return but compassion. He was an amazing friend.

For the first time since she had arrived at the Dark Lord's manor, she smiled. Harry was too good for his own good, really.

She took a deep breath and stood up. She needed a shower, desperately, and after that she would move on. She had to live for her pack now: they needed her. She would get her revenge in the end; she would not rest until she did, but until then she had to be content to wait.

_I held you tight to me  
You slipped away  
You promised to return to me  
And I believed  
I believed _**1**

HPLV

Fred and George were sitting in the kitchen with Sirius and Lauren, plotting the downfall of various Death Eaters. Mostly Wormtail, as he was the most picked on Death Eater in the house by far. The twins were sitting on the kitchen bench, much to the annoyance of the House Elves, while Lauren and Sirius were sitting on stools. Lauren looked strange, sitting on her stool cross-legged, but they knew from past experience that the tall blonde girl couldn't sit properly to save her life.

One of the last people they thought would have interrupted their 'prank conference' poked his head nervously round the door. Arthur Weasley knew from past experience that it was usually a bad idea to disturb the twins while they were plotting their nefarious deeds, but he had been asked to find them by Lucius and Voldemort, and so he had no choice in the matter. He just hoped that he would be let off lightly due to the circumstances.

This was the day that the twins would be formally introduced to their new future-step-brother, after all, and the snobbish young Draco Malfoy would no doubt provide them with plenty of opportunities for mischief.

As he feared, their eyes glittered wickedly with – no doubt _horrible_ – ideas when they spotted him.

"Dad!" one of them called.

"How good to see you!" the other continued.

"Hello boys, Sirius, Miss Jager," Arthur greeted, earning him a friendly wave from Sirius and a grin from Lauren. "You've been asked to come upstairs: the Hogwarts students have arrived."

"Hear that Gred?" the twin on the left asked.

"It sounds like we've got more victims, Forge," the one on the right confirmed.

"_Now_, boys," Arthur said, and his sons jumped down from their positions on the bench. Sirius stood and held out a hand to help Lauren as she awkwardly unfolded her long legs so that she could get down off her stool.

"Is Ari going to be greeting them?" she asked.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't even laid eyes on the girl since the wereleopards' abrupt arrival at the manor, when he and Lucius had found them in the snow, barefoot and injured and crying. "I don't know," he admitted.

Lauren sighed. "Well…I'd better put my appearance in as the beta then."

Arthur nodded. He didn't really understand pack politics all that well – Fenrir had tried to explain it once, but the 'survival of the strongest' concept had been too complex in its simplicity. **2** All he knew was that it was something the small group of surprisingly strong teens adhered to with a ferocity that left him breathless.

Maybe though, he thought, that teens that hadn't been coddled as much as his own children were capable of being just as strong and mature as adults.

He led the group of trouble makers up the stairs and down a couple of hallways into the lobby, where they met Voldemort, Harry, Jericho, Fenrir and…Arisa.

"Ari!" Lauren yelped. "What the hell did you do to your hair?"

Arisa turned and offered her beta a small smile as she ran her fingers through her messy shoulder length hair. Arthur blinked. Hadn't it been waist-length earlier?

"It was an offering," Ari explained softly. There was a hard look to her eyes that forbade any criticism, and Lauren ducked her head. Her show of submissiveness didn't last long as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the shorter girl. Ari returned the hug with ease.

"It's good to see you again," Lauren admitted. Ari nodded, not saying a word.

Their moment of peace was broken when the doors opened and Lucius entered the manor, followed by his little train of brats.

Draco Malfoy was instantly noticeable, if only because he looked almost identical to his father, having clearly inherited Lucius' Veela heritage. By his side was a beautiful, slender black-skinned boy, and they were followed by two brown-haired boys – one slightly scrawny looking; the other slightly on the chubby side, with a kind, round face – two girls, both of whom looked awed to be greeted by Voldemort himself, and the last four students were made up of a group of three boys and another girl, all of whom looked terrified.

"My apologies for our tardiness, my Lord," Lucius said, with a small bow. "They insisted on being given a small tour of the grounds."

"They are lovely, my Lord," said one of the girls, who had thick, shiny black hair and a slightly upturned nose that made her look like a pug.

"Thank you Miss Parkinson," Voldemort replied. "May I introduce my companions? This" – he indicated Harry, who stood faithfully by his side – "is my fiancée Aryn Vesper. These are his fathers, Jericho Vesper of the Vampire Council and Fenrir Greyback, alpha of the largest werewolf pack in Britain. These young ladies are Arisa Barlow, alpha of the Northern wereleopard pack, and her beta Lauren Jager. Standing behind them are Arthur, Fred and George Weasley and Sirius Black."

"Weasleys," Draco Malfoy mouthed in shock.

Harry felt a little malicious thrill run down his spine at the sight of Draco's confusion. They had met years ago when Lucius had brought Draco to the Vespers' shop for the first time. Draco had hated him on sight. It was, in retrospect, probably jealousy. Even at a young age, Jericho had given him responsibility at the shop, whether sorting ingredients or brewing simple potions, or even just watching the shop, while Draco had clearly been kept very much under Lucius' thumb.

Veela were always very protective of their young, and Lucius was not an exception.

Draco had shot him a look upon seeing him – almost a glare; toned down because, no doubt, of the Dark Lord by his side – but that had been swept away as Draco was promptly floored by the presence of the Weasleys. Harry wished that he could be a fly on the wall when Draco was told about his new family situation.

HPLV

_Severus,_

_The end is coming. Be prepared for action within the fortnight._

The note didn't need a signature.

* * *

**1. **The song is The Promise by Within Temptation. Standard disclaimers apply. I used it because I thought it fit how Ari had to be feeling.

**2. **I am of the opinion that simplicity is a state of mind. What's easy for some people to grasp can be really difficult for others depending on intellect, culture and upbringing. Of course, that's just my opinion.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_ and I am making no money from writing and posting this story.

AN: Well, what can I say? It's been a while, huh? An absolute ton of stuff has happened since my last update up to – and including – my having to get to grips with Middle Egyptian grammar since I finally started university, moving house, and studying like you wouldn't believe. So this was shunted down to very near the bottom of my priorities list. Sorry, but, RL unfortunately has to come first.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter and that it was worth the wait.

Red Sun Rising

By Evandar

Chapter 24

'This is

Where heroes

And cowards

Part ways.

Light the fire, feast

Chase the ghost, give in

Take the road less travelled by

Leave the city of fools

Turn every poet loose.

Heroes, cowards, no more.' – _7 Days to the Wolves_, Nightwish

Lucius rested his chin on one delicate hand and watched the proceedings with interest. Minister Fudge has been dragged before the Wizengamot to explain exactly _why_ he had seen fit to leave the country as it descended into a state of outright civil war. The man was truly useless: he couldn't even manage to spit out his own excuses properly, making him sound like the bumbling idiot he was.

It was the crowd that was the most interesting, however – watching Fudge was fairly embarrassing, actually – it was like watching vultures circling over a dying animal. The Wizengamot would elect a new Minister after they had dealt with Fudge – it was an open secret that nothing he could say could save him from disgrace and a forced early retirement – and there were several spectators hoping to get elected themselves. Familiar faces filled the room, Lucius had entertained most of them at dinner parties over the years and he could feel the gazes that locked onto him every so often. They were wondering whether he had a change at the position; whether they were competing against him.

Lucius had wondered that himself – grateful, not for the first time that the secrets of his family history were locked away from prying eyes – but he had decided that affected nonchalance was a much better look than the predatory expressions of his potential rivals.

There was, after all, nothing worse than public humiliation…as Fudge was currently proving to them all.

It was also interesting that Dolores Umbridge, one of the Minister's most vocal supporters, had managed to drag herself away from the fortress she had turned Hogwarts into to watch. She was one of the most predatory looking spectators in the room; her betrayal of Fudge's ideals and her own hypocrisy clear for all to see. Lucius wondered if she would follow any new edicts made by the new Minister over Hogwarts' future or if she would continue with her tyrannical regime regardless.

Judging by what he had heard from Draco – before the brat had stopped speaking to him over his relationship with Arthur – he doubted that she would heed any rule but her own now.

He could only hope that his Lord's orders for today had got through to Severus in time. If there hadn't, there would be unpleasant consequences for everyone involved. Things had to move very quickly now, and they had to gather their strength for the final battle. If anything at all went wrong now then they would fail.

HPLV

The whole of Hogwarts felt different now, without Umbridge lurking in its halls. The brief reprieve and the joy it brought could be seen in the face of every student that Severus passed on his way through the halls. It felt as if a shadow had been lifted from over the school. But Severus could not relax; unlike his students he was not granted such luxuries. He had an important task to perform, one that would ensure the fall of the Light and dispose of Umbridge forever.

In truth, Severus was rather looking forward to the coming bloodshed. He hoped to get at least one good hex in before the toad-like woman was vanquished. Who, exactly, would kill her was unknown to him, but he really hoped that whoever it was would do a brutal job. He would hope to do it himself, but his Lord had ordered for his focus to remain on pacifying his students during the attack, and Severus knew that that obeying orders was far more beneficial to his continued existence than taking his revenge on the woman who had been the bane of the school since the start of the year.

He moved swiftly through the corridors of the school, heading down to the lowest levels of the school to where the object his Lord had sent him was guiding him. The object looked like a kind of compass, only it was crafted from black metal and the face had no directions displayed on it. Instead the needle pointed towards sources of magical power, and currently it was locked onto the keystone that held up Hogwarts' wards.

Apparently Lord Voldemort had managed the impossible: he had managed to find a way to alter the ancient wards of Hogwarts in a way that would allow his followers swift and easy access to the building without being splinched or causing the school to go into automatic lockdown. Severus had always known that the man was a genius, but he had to wonder how exactly his Lord had managed it. He couldn't help but wonder if it was anything to do with the vampire that his Lord had taken to consorting with recently.

He had often bought potions supplies at Vesper's shop and he knew better than to underestimate the vampire's abilities. That was why he wondered if the vampire had decided to aid Voldemort by passing on his knowledge of archaic magic. It would explain why Voldemort felt that he had a chance in taking on the wards of Hogwarts – long renowned as the most powerful wards in the country. They had, after all, been added to over the school's long history, and were layered and woven together in a supposedly impenetrable way.

Not even Dumbledore had had a full grasp of the wards' abilities…but Dumbledore had fallen, hadn't he. He was dead at the hand of an unknown assassin sent by a Dark Lord who had considered him – perhaps rightly – to be so far beneath him that he wasn't worth a death at his own hand.

Severus pushed thoughts of the old headmaster out of his head. He had respected the man, despite his loyalties to the Dark Lord, but now was not the time to reflect on that. The black-metal compass was leading him deeper into the school, down corridors he had not seen before; that had not been travelled for centuries. Now was the time for Severus Snape to focus on his task.

Now was the time for him to prove his worth to the Dark Lord.

HPLV

A loud crash echoed down the corridor and Voldemort sighed. He had never been so tempted to hex the Hell out of his followers' children before, but now he had to actively suppress the urge to torture the lot of them…except Longbottom, maybe. That boy seemed to have more self-preservation than the others; he was keeping out of the war that had erupted between Draco Malfoy and his future step-siblings.

Draco had not reacted well to Lucius' little personal matter. It was fairly understandable: the hostility Lucius had displayed towards Arthur's wife and family had obviously affected his son's opinions on them greatly.

Voldemort wouldn't have cared about this at all if the little snot hadn't deemed fit to try and destroy his house while attempting to prove just how unhappy with the news he was. He wished Lucius could control his own spawn better.

As it was, Voldemort was trying to ignore the actions of his second-in-command's heir and the Weasley twins' retaliations and had retreated to the seclusion of his private suite. Harry had decided to join him for the most part, seeing fit to just wander in whenever the racket got too much for him. Voldemort would have hexed anyone else, but he enjoyed Harry's presence in his chambers. The boy didn't grovel, didn't mince his words, and Voldemort didn't care; he was more than aware that Harry was one of the only people who didn't irritate him.

In fact, he missed Harry when he wasn't around. He hadn't expected _that_. Apparently Vesper had known what he was doing when he had arranged their wedding contract.

There was another crash – it sounded expensive – and someone shouted. Voldemort covered his eyes with a long-fingered hand and groaned. He would definitely have to intervene at some point, he just didn't want to leave the sanctuary of his chambers.

Maybe he would wait until Lucius got home and then order the man to take control of the chaos his son was causing. Then he could watch Lucius suffer.

The door to his private sitting room opened, and Harry poked his head round. He smiled tiredly – and somewhat apologetically – and opened the door wider to reveal several harried looking wereleopards.

"Do you mind sheltering them for a bit?" he asked.

"What happened to their suite?" Voldemort asked, looking at Ari for an answer.

The girl winced. "Weasley-Malfoy family politics," she said. "They interrupted pack bonding time, and, er, destroyed the living area and a couple of bedrooms before we managed to kick them out."

"Managed?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

"We had been asleep," Ari explained, indicating their attire – they were all in pyjamas. "And we were trying not to maim them when we were rudely interrupted."

"Ah…" Voldemort sighed. "Come in then. Try not to make too much noise."

"We weren't planning on it," Ari told him. "Fur-piles are quiet."

The wereleopards then proceeded to arrange themselves on the rug in front of the fire place, draping themselves over one another to create a tangle of limbs and bodies. One by one they began to fall asleep, their breaths becoming deep and even. Ari, glanced sleepily at Voldemort one last time before she dropped off, and nodded her thanks before burying her face in the crook of Lauren's neck and drifting off into sleep.

"All were-packs do it," Harry informed him. "It's a way for them to bond; to become more comfortable with each other. Pack is family, but at the same time it's closer than that. For most lycanthropes, the pack is the only thing that they have to live for. That's why times like this are so important for them."

Voldemort nodded, not taking his eyes from the heap of slumbering teenagers currently on his floor. He had heard Greyback mention such things, and he realised that Harry must have been in such a situation at some point – he was the 'cub' of a werewolf, after all. And he was not stupid enough not to realise that the wereleopards and the werewolves he had among his forces had a bond with each other that transcended even that of the Dark Mark which most of them possessed. It was one of the many secrets to their strength.

Harry sat down next to him and leaned against his side. He tilted his face up and pressed a kiss to the Dark Lord's jaw, thoroughly distracting him from the wereleopards and their fur-pile. Voldemort wound his arm around Harry's shoulders and pulled him in for a more passionate embrace.

Harry had let him understand how mutual affection could create strength.

HPLV

The Wizengamot filed back into the room, filling up the rows of empty seats. Lucius looked down at them from where he sat, mentally going through each of their allegiances. Fudge had been sent home in disgrace, and the Wizengamot had moved to a more private chamber to select a new Minister of Magic. The results of their election, which had taken up practically the whole day, were about to be released.

Personally, Lucius didn't really care who it was they had elected. The Dark Lord's forces were more than enough to crush the Ministry anyway, and Lucius was bored of waiting – he wanted to get back to the Dark Lord's manor and get some sleep. He also needed to try and talk to Draco about the anti-Weasley tirade he was currently stuck on.

He barely looked up when the Head of the Wizengamot stood to deliver the results. He was an elderly wizard of considerable lineage who had an unfortunate tendency to make everything – even the most interesting of subjects – seem unbearably dull. His voice was frail and shaky, and he did not look particularly happy, as if he was unhappy with the verdict he was about to deliver.

"The next Minister of Magic, who won by a majority of two hundred and eighty seven votes, is Lucius Reichard Aurele Malfoy. **1**"

Lucius blinked. People were turning in their seats to look at him, and it was clear from their faces that they too were stunned by the verdict. He…he was Minister of Magic?

Lucius almost laughed. Fate clearly hated him; at least his Lord would be pleased.

HPLV

Draco ducked round the corner, avoiding a hex that had been sent speeding towards his head by one of the Weasley twins. He didn't know, or care, which one it was, but it had been a close call. He held his wand in front of his chest as he peered down the corridor he had just turned into. It looked unfamiliar, and he could see no signs of damage, so it was clear that the Weasley twins hadn't followed him through here before. He had only put a hair lightening potion in their shampoo to make them look more like the Malfoys they were about to come; spending the day running from them spoke of a massive over-reaction on their part, in his opinion.

He edged down the hall, his back against the wall, shooting nervous looks in both directions. He knew that he really shouldn't be causing so much havoc in the Dark Lord's manor, but he hadn't been able to let the affront to what he had _thought_ was family honour slide. How could his father have expected him to welcome _Weasleys_ into the family after a lifetime of hatred; how had he been supposed to realise that it was only Molly Weasley that his father hated?

Draco also wondered how on earth he was supposed to act now that his whole world had been turned upside down.

"Malfoy, right?" said a voice.

Draco jumped about a foot in the air. He looked around wildly until his gaze came to rest on a tall man with long black hair pulled back from his face into a ponytail at the base of his neck. The man looked vaguely familiar at first, and then Draco realised with shock that he had seen a photograph of the man – looking decidedly more gaunt and unkempt at the time – in the Daily Prophet a few years ago. It was his mother's cousin: Sirius Black.

He drew himself up. "Yes?" he asked.

The man rolled his eyes and muttered something about 'his mother's attitude'. "Look," he said, loud enough this time for Draco to hear him. "You aren't making many friends right now. You might want to consider calming down."

Draco glared. "This is none of your business," he snapped.

"Of course it isn't," Black said sarcastically. "You aren't disturbing anyone at all with all the chaos you've been causing. Please ignore me and continue causing your father more grief."

That caught Draco's attention. "What do you know about it?" he demanded.

Black sighed. "I was in First Year when your father and Lucius Malfoy came out," he said. "And a few years later I found myself in a pretty damn similar situation **2**, so I clearly know more about this than you."

Draco bristled. Even though he was curious, he did not like being talked down to. Black pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against and moved to walk past Draco. He paused though, and looked down at Draco thoughtfully.

"Imagine if Blaise was pushed into marrying someone you hated," he said. "Imagine if he stayed with her just so that society would accept him and that you were made to marry someone you didn't care about at all. Imagine if you were then pushed to opposite sides in a war, but then, years later, you were given the chance to get him back. Would you really do any differently than you father's done?"

And with that he walked off, leaving Draco to stand alone in the dimly lit corridor to think over what he had said.

**1.** I had quite a bit of fun choosing Lucius' names. As I have previously mentioned, Lucius is French in this Fic so I went looking for French baby names and their meanings. Reichard apparently means 'strong power', which fits him because he is a pretty powerful wizard, while Aurele means 'golden', which I chose because of his (oh how superficial of me) hair colour.

**2. **When I say 'similar situation' here, I don't meant that Remus or Sirius were ever forced into marriage or anything like that. What I was referring to was the way that Sirius is the only one Remus can fall in love with, just like Arthur is the only one for Lucius, and that both couples were forcibly separated from each other for long periods of time only to get back together later in life.


End file.
